Interpolations
by DeeRich
Summary: A new chapter! SPOILER WARNING FOR ALL EPISODES! This is a series of missing scenes starting in Season Two and continuing through Season Three. It parallels canon so at times is a bit AU.
1. Chapter 1 : Beginnings

**INTERPOLATIONS**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

**in·ter'po·la'tion** _n_. A mathematical procedure which estimates values of a   
function at positions between listed or given values. -- is a series of "missing" scenes from episodes 2.7 through 2.10, and my interpretation of what happened in 2.11 and 2.12. So obviously, there are spoilers for all of those eps in the story. Also obviously, the story will make more sense if you've seen the eps. This fic is AU but has some similarities to canon.

**DISCLAIMER:** RDM owns Battlestar Galactica, but he said we could play. No money is being made.

This story contains homage to two favorite authors of mine. See if you can spot them. B)

**CHAPTER ONE**: "Beginnings" takes place near the end of "Home, part 2."  
**Synopsis:** William Adama and Laura Roslin start over as Commander of the Fleet and President of the Twelve Colonies.

Many Thanks to **emmaockham** for her patient beta and wonderful comments.  
And a tip of the hat to **karihan** for her wonderful story "Essence" which can be found here Here

**CHAPTER ONE**

(Takes place near the end of "Home, part 2")

**Beginnings**

"Beginnings are such delicate things." Frank Herbert, Dune

Commander William Adama leaned his head back against the rear bulkhead of the raptor. He let his eyes drift nearly closed. He was tired, but today it was a good tired. For the first time in two weeks he didn't care that almost every part of his body hurt in some way. He had his son back, he had Kara back, and he had Laura back. His eyebrows rose. _Where did thatcome from?_ He hadn't even _liked_ Laura Roslin until he realized that the remnants of the human race needed her, the Fleet needed her, and . . . _he_ needed her. _To help me keep my promise,_ he told himself, and proceeded to review his plan for reintegrating the "fugitives" into the Fleet.

From across the cabin, the President of the Twelve Colonies Laura Roslin watched Commander Adama doze off. _How can he nap_ . . . She cut off the thought abruptly as she realized that like any skilled pilot and tactician he wasn't sleeping; he was reviewing the upcoming mission in his mind's eye, mapping out each move and counter. Her eyes narrowed. _He's more politically savvy than he'll ever admit._ The past few days on Kobol had been enlightening for Roslin. She had watched on the climb to the Tomb of Athena as the Commander reconnected with his son and his almost daughter. On the walk back to Galleon Meadow, Adama had fallen in step with her and as they slid and snaked their way down the mountain, he outlined a plan to repair the rift created by his attempt at a military coup.

"Commander," she told him, "You have got to be kidding. We can't just pretend that nothing happened."

Adama looked at her, his blue eyes holding a look she recognized. She had used it many times in her career as a teacher. It said, "Have you not been listening to what I have been saying?" with an undercurrent of "Are you really that dense?"

They walked on silently for a few minutes. "What you're saying is, we treat what happened like a rude noise someone makes at a state dinner. We don't acknowledge what happened. We don't mention it, discuss it, or refer to it in any way."

Adama stepped over a fallen tree ahead of her, turned and looked back silently. This time his eyes were smiling. He held out his hand, palm up and when she took it, helped her step over the tree.

Her eyes held his. "The press will be screaming for your head."

"If you want my resignation, Madame President, ask, and you'll have it."

The absolute seriousness of his reply caught her by surprise and she stumbled, falling forward into his arms. He caught her easily, but the impact brought forth an involuntary grunt of pain. Roslin was suddenly acutely aware that it was a very short time since his near fatal shooting.

"Bill, are you all right?" she asked as she squirmed to extricate herself from his arms. "You don't have a fever or something?"

He held her firmly and she felt rather than heard his chuckle. "Madame President, I am fine and perfectly aware of what I'm saying." He set her gently on her feet and released her.

She glared at him. Her mind reeled. "Resign? What about finding Earth? Who would command the _Galactica_? What about the Fleet?" Roslin drew her brows together and crossed her arms. _What about me?_ "If you resign, where would you go? What would you do?"

He looked at her again, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You've found a map to Earth. You can find someone to command the _Galactica_ and the Fleet." Adama turned and continued down the mountain. "As for me . . .there's always the _Carialle_. Captain Desmond is an old friend. I'm sure she could use some help in engineering," he said over his shoulder.

_The Carialle? Engineering?_ She moved forward briskly and fell in step with him. "You'll do no such thing, Commander. I'll not have Col . . . command of the _Galactica_ in anyone's hands but yours." She caught his eye and smirked, goading him. "I've worked too hard to get you just where I want you, and I'm not about to start over again."

He stopped short. She continued down the mountain. This time, he hurried to catch up with her. "Then shall we proceed as I suggest?" At her nod he continued, "Thank-you, Madame President."

"Dradis contact," Lt. Gaeta called. "Colonial transponder." He looked across the _Galactica_'s CIC at Colonel Tigh. "It's Raptor One, sir."

Colonel Tigh turned toward the communications position. "Dee . . ."

Petty Officer Dualla flipped a switch on her console. Racetrack's voice issued from a speaker: "_Galactica_ this is Raptor One, announcing a change in call sign. We are now _Colonial One_."

Dualla smiled and replied, "Copy that, _Colonial One_. Is Galactica Actual on board?"

"That's affirmative, _Galactica_. And everyone here is five-by-five," Racetrack answered.

"Sir, multiple Dradis contacts," Gaeta again called. He manipulated several controls on his console. "24 contacts. All Colonial transponders. It's the rest of the Fleet sir."

A cheer rolled through CIC. Tigh smiled. "He did it," he said softly. Louder he called, "Dee, clear _Colonial One_ for landing. Mr. Gaeta you have the deck."

Colonel Tigh headed out of CIC for the flight deck, even though he knew that Roslin would be on board the raptor, and she would not be happy to see him. He needed to see Commander Adama and assure himself that the Commander was well. His old friend had been out of Sickbay for only three days when he took off for Kobol on a mission to retrieve the ex-President and her separatist fleet. _Damn fool thing to do if you ask me. Which he did and then didn't listen_, Tigh mused as he arrived on the flight deck. He stood and waited for the deck crew to finish tying down the raptor. He moved to stand opposite the hatch as it opened.

Adama felt the familiar dislocation of an FTL jump and listened as Racetrack announced the change in their call sign. He lifted his head, opening his eyes to glance around the cabin. His eyes settled on Laura. **_President Roslin._** He corrected himself. _She looks exhausted. First thing Madame President, you're going to Sickbay to see Major Cottle._ He released his restraints and stood, as Racetrack set the raptor down gently on _Galactica_'s flight deck.

Roslin watched Adama. He stiffly rose from the rear of the raptor and moved to stand opposite the hatch. She saw him grimace and place a hand against his chest. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath. _He must be exhausted. First thing Commander, you're getting checked by Doctor Cottle._ Then Roslin noted how the Commander's posture straightened, how the lines of fatigue and wear on his face smoothed, as he opened his eyes and turned to face the slowly opening hatch.

She stood and moved to stand beside him. Placing a hand on his arm, she said, "Commander, I would appreciate it if you would personally escort me to see Doctor Cottle. After my last visit to the _Galactica_, you can understand that I am concerned as to where I might end up otherwise."

Adama stiffened and his eyes narrowed. "You are in no danger aboard this ship. I assure you, Madame President. I need to attend to the final details of your return."

_Oh no you don't, Bill._ She gave him a small smile, and pushed a little harder. "I don't want any of your people to think that I've escaped from the brig and should be taken back there. Also we need to present a united front; to your crew, to the press, and to the Quorum. Being seen together is essential."

Adama studied her face, and grunted. "As you wish Madame President." He took her right arm with his left and turned to face the now fully opened hatch. He addressed Colonel Tigh.

"Permission to board, sir." 

"Permission granted," was Tigh's terse reply. Tigh could see that Adama's boots were muddy and although dry, his fatigues showed evidence of several days wear in the rain. He could also tell that his old friend was tired and in pain, even though Adama stood expressionless and ramrod straight. _Damn it, Bill. You just got out of Sickbay._ Various arguments to convince Adama to let Doctor Cottle check him flitted through Tigh's head. He rejected each of them in turn.

Roslin saw worry and fear flicker across Tigh's face as he studied Adama. Then she saw mistrust as he looked at her. Roslin gripped Adama's arm. Adama helped her step over the threshold and onto the ramp. They moved down the ramp and walked over to Tigh. Roslin listened as Adama received an update on the condition of the Fleet. She was also busy noting the reactions of the deck crew. There were smiles tinged with concern on their faces when they looked at her and the Commander. When Tigh finished speaking, Roslin turned her full attention to the two men beside her. "Shall we proceed Commander?" she said.

"As you wish Madame President," Adama grunted. She watched as a look first of surprise then gratitude came to Tigh's face as Adama continued, "I'll be escorting the President to Sickbay, Colonel. Please carry on with the preparations for the ceremony as we've discussed."

Major Cottle, the Chief Medical Officer of the _Galactica_, was astounded to see President Roslin and Commander Adama arrive in Sickbay together. He hurried over to intercept the couple as they crossed the bay toward the treatment area.

"Madame President, I'll leave you here, in the care of Major Cottle," Adama said. "When the Major's finished with you, I'll return to escort you to the ceremony." He released Roslin's arm and turned to leave.

Cottle blocked Adama's path toward the hatch. "Where do you think, you're going?" Cottle demanded. "You've missed your last three appointments."

"To attend to my ship, Doctor." Adama nodded at Roslin. "Madame President." He stepped around Cottle and strode toward the hatch.

"You leave now, without letting me examine you, and I'll declare you medically unfit for duty," Cottle turned and grumbled at Adama's retreating back.

The Commander stopped, and stiffened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He rounded on Cottle, and stalked back to come to a standstill in the CMO's personal space, his expression dark.

The two men locked eyes and glared at each other. A silent argument ensued.

_Wanna try it? I'm fine._

Like Hades, you are.

I have duties to attend to.

So do I. And one of them is making sure the Commander isn't going to collapse in the middle of CIC.

That's not going to happen.

Wanna bet?

"You know I will," the Doctor said calmly.

"Doctor. Commander. Please." Roslin, who had watched the silent argument, stepped up to them. She said to Adama, "I think you should listen to the Doctor, Bill."

Adama glowered at Cottle, then looked at Roslin, seeing her concern. When she laid a hand on his shoulder, he blinked and sighed, "As you wish Madame President." Adama turned to Cottle. "All right, Major. Let's get it over with."

Cottle looked from Adama to Roslin and back again. _What the frak happened on Kobol?_


	2. Chapter 2: Contrivances

**INTERPOLATIONS  
**

**in·ter'po·la'tion**_n_. A mathematical procedure which estimates values of a function at positions between listed or given values.

This is a series of "missing" scenes from episodes 2.7 through 2.10, and my interpretation of what happened in 2.11 and 2.12. So obviously, there are spoilers for all of those eps in the story. Also obviously, the story will make more sense if you've seen the eps. This fic is AU but has some similarities to canon.

**DISCLAIMER:** RDM owns Battlestar Galactica, but he said we could play. No money is being made.

This story contains homage to two favorite authors of mine. See if you can spot them. B)

Many Thanks to emmaockham for her patient beta and wonderful comments.  
And a tip of the hat to karihan.

**Synopsis**: Billy Keikeya advises the President on the future of the Fleet.

**  
CHAPTER TWO**  
(takes place at the end of "The Final Cut")

**Contrivances**

Thou hast prevariated with thy friend,

By underhand contrivances undone me:

And while my open nature trusted in thee,

Thou hast stept in between me and my hopes,

And ravish'd from me all my soul held dear.

Thou hast betray'd me.

-- Nicholas Rowe English dramatist, writer and poet (1674 - 1718),  
Lady Jane Grey (act II, sc. 1. 235)

Billy Keikeya sat at his table and watched as first D'anna Biers and her cameraman left; then as Colonel Tigh excused himself. He saw Commander Adama linger and after Tigh's exit, hand President Roslin a sheaf of papers. He saw the President leaf through the stack.

"What's this, Commander?" The President regarded Commander Adama over the top of her glasses.

"A list of suggested promotions, Madame President." The Commander folded his hands before him. "I have a number of people on board the _Galactica_ who are filling positions normally filled by persons with a higher rank. They have performed admirably, and I would like to advance them to the rank commensurate with their responsibilities."

Roslin removed her glasses and smiled a small smile at the Commander. "Couldn't you just do this yourself?"

Adama nodded. "Yes, field promotions in wartime are within my authority." His lips quirked into a slight smile. "But I would like to make these promotions permanent. That requires the approval of Fleet Headquarters and the President."

Roslin drew her brows together, but her smile didn't waver. "We don't have a Fleet Headquarters, Commander."

Commander Adama regarded the President over the top of his glasses. "That's true, Madame President." His smile grew fractionally.

To Billy it was clear what the Commander left unsaid. _But we do have a President._

Roslin's smile changed to a smirk. She returned her glasses to her face, and looked down at the papers. "I'll take your request to the Quorum, Commander."

Commander Adama lowered his gaze to his folded hands. His smile faded and his brows drew together. "As you wish, Madame President."

Billy frowned. _The President wants to ask the Quorum? That's not really necessary. There's something not quite right here._

Roslin looked up again. She caught the Commander's gaze. "Is that all Commander?"

Adama returned her look steadily and a ghost of his smile returned. "Yes, Madame President." He inclined his head. "By your leave."

"Of course Commander. Good-day."

Adama drew himself to attention. "Good-day, Madame President." The Commander nodded at Billy as he exited the makeshift office.

Billy shuffled the papers on his ersatz desk, then stood and went to stand in front of the President, waiting for her to acknowledge him. Finally after waiting for what seemed to him to be a very long time, Billy laid a hand on the President's desk. "Dee's worried about Commander Adama," he said.

Roslin looked up at Billy and took off her glasses. "What? Dee's worried?"

Billy nodded. "She told me that the whole crew is worried. When you d-," Billy's voice cracked. He took a deep breath and swallowed. "I told you that I don't believe in the Gods; I believe in you and Commander Adama." Billy swallowed again. "When you die, Dr. Baltar will be President, and Tom Zarek will become Vice-President, because you're no longer here to stop him. Dr. Baltar won't last long. Zarek will become President. How long do you think the Commander will survive President Zarek?"

Roslin calmly returned her glasses to her face. "Commander Adama can handle Tom Zarek. The people . . . "

"The people! The people are frightened. They're confused." Billy burst out. "They hear wild rumors about what happened after the Commander was shot. They make up stories about what happened on Kobol. They wonder why no one talks about it. And they wonder what really happened." Billy leaned forward over the desk. "People see how he's changed, and they worry that he's not recovering. They know Commander Adama is the only one capable of protecting them from the Cylons. They know what happened when Colonel Tigh was in charge. So they're afraid. Afraid that the Commander is no longer physically able to protect them and lead them to safety." Billy waved his hands in the air. "Zarek will put one of his men in charge of the _Galactica_. The Commander has no legal standing to oppose him – especially once Zarek becomes President. Adama will not stage another coup. He won't risk splitting the Fleet again. So Zarek will probably get the guns and the power that he's after."

Roslin tilted her head to the side, and studied Billy. She drew her brows together. "Billy, I thought you considered Tom Zarek a liberator, a prisoner of conscience."

"I learned differently on Kobol. " Billy retorted. "President Zarek will be the end of the Fleet. The Cylons will be able to stop chasing us – we'll destroy ourselves." Billy let all of his worries spill out. "When are you going to stop pushing Commander Adama away? He came to Kobol after you, he gave you back the presidency, he led the applause at the ceremony. He's stood beside you at every public forum and made it very clear that you are the President and that he supports you. But you continue to push him away every chance you get."

"Billy, I didn't attempt a military coup, I didn't arrest him, and I didn't put him in jail," President Roslin responded calmly.

"You used his son to escape from the brig and to start an insurrection. You split the Fleet." Billy countered.

"I didn't lie to the people in the first place," Roslin snapped.

"No. What you did was worse. You didn't tell the Commander about your cancer because you were afraid he would use the knowledge against you. But you knew his secret, that he didn't know the location of Earth, and you used it against him. You used that knowledge to coerce Lieutenant Thrace to go back to Caprica." Billy's voice rose. "You did to him what you were afraid he would do to you."

Roslin fell silent. She took off her glasses and stared across the cabin at the far wall. Her eyes were unfocused and dark.

Billy fell silent as well. After a prolonged pause he said, "You can have my resignation Madame President."

Roslin's eyes snapped back to Billy. "Why would I want that? If my advisors won't tell me the truth, then what good are they?"


	3. Chapter 3 : Counting

**Synopsis: **President Roslin thinks about her legacy and takes action to assure the stability of the Fleet.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Battlestar Galactica, but RDM said we could play with it. No money is being made.

**SPOILER WARNING:** This is a series of "missing scenes" from episodes 2.7 through 2.10, and my version of what happens in 2.11 -- so there are SPOILERS for all those eps in the story.

**INTERPOLATIONS**

**CHAPTER THREE**  
(takes place after "Flight of the Phoenix")

**Counting**

You think that someone is counting your sins, your moments of indecision or recalcitrance, but it is not true. You are the only one counting. I say to you brother, _"Stop counting, stop making excuses, stop pretending that the door is locked. I am here at the threshold. Reach out and take my hand and we will open the door and walk through together."_  
-Paul Ferinni, I Am The Door

The trip from the _Galactica_ to the _Colonial One_ was a short one, and in this case -- silent. President Roslin gazed out the front port lost in thought. Swirling through her mind were flashes of the ceremony on board the _Galactica_, the naming of the blackbird, her visit with Cottle, her conversations with Adama.

_With Bill._

He had looked devastated when she returned _Dark Day_, realizing the implication of the act. He had understood that Cottle had given her bad news and at first, had seemed reluctant to share his dilemma, to add his problems to her burdens. But he still expected her to do her job. So Bill had told her of his concerns about the Cylon-Sharon, and had listened to her advice.

Roslin felt a quiet sense of gratitude at the memory. _He listened so intensely._

Bill's words came back to her, _"I took your advice -- met on common ground."  
_  
She was reluctant to name her emotions even in her thoughts, but she remembered what she saw in Bill's eyes, when he told her the results of her counsel. _Pride. Admiration. Compassion. Love?_ So she silently tried to identify her feeling. _Respect._ She shook her head. _No, Laura be honest with yourself. You care for the man. You might even grow to love him – if you had more time._

Roslin sighed. Her time was very short. _So many things to do. I'll never get everything done before… What a mess. _She wrapped her arms around herself._Baltar may be brilliant, but he's unstable and distracted most of the time. He seems more interested in flirting with the Press than leading the Fleet. _Roslin tapped her glasses against her chin.

_And then there's Tom Zarek – he'll probably be the next Vice-President; there's no one to stop him now. He's dangerous. Time and again Zarek's proven that violence is his first solution to any problem. The two of them will tear the Fleet apart. _Roslin drew her brows together._ When Baltar becomes President, and Tom Zarek is Vice-President, Bill's going to have another fight on his hands. A fight I need him to win. Bill's the only person who understands what needs to be done and is in a position to do something about it. He's the only other person who can take care of 'the Family.' _

Roslin frowned._ The way things stand now Bill has very few weapons to use in that fight. There must be some way I can help him. . . I did promise him that he would make the military decisions…he'll need that authority even more when Baltar and Zarek are leading the Fleet. _ Roslin smiled while recalling Bill's acquiescence. There had to be some way she could make her promise outlive her. _Tom Zarek__is dangerous and power hungry, but he was right about one thing in that speech he made on Colonial Day. 'If we wanna survive . . . we need to completely restructure our lives. . . free ourselves of the past.' We need a new paradigm for the relationship between the Colonial government and the military._

"Billy," Roslin turned to her aide. "What is the procedure for promoting members of the Colonial Fleet?"

Billy looked up from the papers in his lap. "Officer or enlisted promotions?"

Roslin sat up a little straighter, and put on her glasses. "There's a difference?"

Billy nodded and continued, the words coming out in a rush. "Yes, there is a difference. Enlisted promotions are based on job proficiency, knowledge, and the results of promotion exams. Officer promotions are based on the needs of the Fleet. A promotion board reviews the records of officers eligible for promotion and makes a recommendation to Fleet Headquarters. After receiving a Fleet HQ endorsement, the list is forwarded to the Ministry of Defense for review. For majors and above, the MoD passes the list on to the President who submits it to the Quorum of Twelve for confirmation. This process is routine, except in the case of flag officers – commanders and admirals, that is."

Roslin rolled her eyes. "The process sounds complicated." She watched Billy, cocking her head to the side. "Did Petty Officer Dualla explain it to you?"

"No, but she did point me to the appropriate regulations and directives." Billy smiled. "I've been researching the subject since Commander Adama gave you his list of suggested promotions. I thought you would need the information, sooner or later."

Roslin laughed lightly. "You're very efficient, Mr. Keikeya. I know that the Colonial government will be in good hands after I'm gone."

Both of their smiles fled.

After an uncomfortable silence, Roslin continued, "How is the promotion process not routine for flag officers?"

Billy cleared his throat. "Commanders and admirals are nominated by the President, from a list recommended by a Fleet promotion board. The promotion is not effective until confirmed by the Quorum of Twelve."

Roslin looked across the cabin of the raptor, out into space at the rapidly approaching bulk of the _Colonial One._ She removed her glasses and chewed at the earpiece. "Isn't a fleet of ships usually commanded by an admiral?"

"That's correct, Madame President," Billy replied.

Roslin smiled. She continued to watch their approach to the _Colonial One_. "Do they all have to be military ships?"

"No, Madame President." Billy smiled.

Her smile morphed into a smirk. _This might work._ "So the President sends the nomination to the Quorum of Twelve?" She turned to look at Billy, who nodded. Roslin continued, "Please have Commander Adama's promotion list ready for submission at the next meeting of the Quorum. I want to go through all the proper channels so later on there can be no questions."

"Yes, Madame President." Billy smiled broadly. "I'm sure Commander Adama will appreciate it." At Roslin's glare Billy quickly added, "That is, he'll appreciate you getting the Quorum to confirm his recommendations."

Roslin's glare faded. She re-donned her glasses. "I have to leave the Fleet in good hands. It took me sometime to work things out with the Commander. I don't want him to have to repeat that struggle with the next President." _I won't leave Bill at a disadvantage, if I can avoid it. _

_Besides, Admiral Adama has a nice ring to it._


	4. Chapter 4: Fitting the Curve, Part One

**DISCLAIMER**: See **AUTHOR'S NOTES**

**SPOILERS:** You have been **WARNED!**

Many Thanks to emmaockham for her patient beta and wonderful comments.

And a tip of the hat to karihan for her wonderful story "Essence"

This chapter "overlaps" canon. So it's AU, but isn't all fanfic? This chapter is also long so I'm posting it in Four Parts.

CHAPTER FOUR

(takes place during and after "Pegasus" and "Resurrection Ship")

**Fitting the Curve**

**Part One**

A mathematical procedure which estimates values of a function at positions between listed or given values.

– Merriam-Webster (Internet version)

" . . . the last Quorum meeting was quite productive, Commander. We discussed a number of issues that will interest you." President Roslin stopped when the alert klaxon sounded.

Lt. Gaeta's voice issued from the speakers. "Action stations, action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. Repeat: Action stations, action stations."

Commander Adama turned toward the comm and frowned at the President. "Well, Madam President, looks like you picked a hell of a day for a visit."

Roslin silently agreed with the Commander. _I'll just have to give him the news later. _She followed Adama out of his quarters and down the corridor to the CIC.

Adama, Admiral Cain, and Roslin sat around the table in the Commander's quarters. They had gone directly there from the _Galactica_'s flight deck, after greeting Admiral Cain and welcoming the crew of the _Pegasus_. Roslin had suggested that the change in venue, so the three of them could talk privately.

The Commander poured drinks. Roslin repeated how surprised they were to find another battlestar. She asked Cain about the _Pegasus_' escape from the Cylons and journey away from the Colonies. Cain told how the _Pegasus_ had jumped – blind – to elude the Cylon attack on the Scorpion Fleet Shipyard. Cain asked Adama for his logs.

Then Admiral Cain stood. Adama rose as well.

_The meeting seems to be over. Bill is awfully quiet. _Roslin, still seated, watched them -- puzzled. _There's something more between Cain and Bill; something other than the usual officer/superior officer relationship. Bill's reaction on hearing Cain's voice over the wireless and his expression during this "get acquainted" meeting is his quarters . . ._ Roslin sighed.

Cain looked down at Roslin. "Something wrong?"

"No. I sometimes forget about the rules of military protocol." Roslin looked at Adama. _Hopefully Bill will explain it all to me later._

Adama saw Roslin's confused expression. "Admiral Cain is my superior officer." His mouth quirked, for a second, into a small smile, and he continued patiently, "She will take complete command of the entire fleet."

Admiral Cain turned to face the woman who claimed to be the President of the Twelve Colonies_. She's a frakking schoolteacher! What possessed Adama to take orders from a frakking schoolteacher?_ "Madame President, you look like I just shot your dog."

Roslin shook her head. "No, it's just . . . it's just the Commander . . . we've been through a lot." Roslin stood. _The arrival of the Pegasus changes everything; I may never get the chance to tell Bill . . ._

Commander Adama stood at the tactical table in the center of the _Galactica_'s CIC. His mind was running combat scenarios and calculating outcomes of a confrontation between the two battlestars. _We're out manned and the _Pegasus_ has us out gunned._ His train of thought was interrupted by Petty Officer Dualla.

"Sir, President Roslin is calling." Dualla called from her communications position.

"Put her through – private and secure, Dee." Adama gritted his teeth. _I don't have much time for explanations._

Dee called out again. "The President is on the line, sir."

Adama picked up the handset. "Madame President, you need to move the Fleet away from the _Galactica _and the _Pegasus_."

Roslin's voice filtered through the static into his ear. "Commander, what is going on? Why have you launched Vipers? The Fleet is in a panic."

Adama gripped the handset until his knuckles turned white. "There's been an . . . incident on board the _Galactica_. Chief Tyrol and Lt. Agathon apparently killed a member of Admiral Cain's crew – a Lt. Thorne. Admiral Cain has convicted them of murder and treason, and sentenced them to death." He leaned against the tactical table. "I'm going to get my men."

On board the _Colonial One_, Roslin sat back in her chair. She stared at her desktop. _When did all this happen?_ When she recovered her voice, she took a deep breath and replied, "How can I help?"

Adama's voice reached her through the static on the wireless. He sounded grim. "Keep the civilian ships away from us. I don't want any collateral damage. You may need to make an emergency jump, so I suggest you have the Fleet spool up their FTL drives."

"Very well." Roslin tried to sound encouraging. "You have our full faith and support, Commander."

Aboard the _Galactica_ Adama bowed his head. "Thank-you, Madame President." He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Good-bye, Laura." Adama broke the connection.

On the _Colonial One_ Roslin heard the click as Adama replaced the handset in its holder. "Good-bye," she replied nevertheless.

At the sound of a gasp, Roslin's head snapped up. Billy stood next to her -- wide-eyed. "What's wrong Billy?"

"Commander Adama said 'Good-bye?'"

Roslin took off her glasses and nodded. "Yes, Billy. That's the usual way to end a conversation." She cocked her head at her aide who was shaking his head. "Billy . . ."

"No. No. No. Commander Adama doesn't normally say 'Good-bye' at the end of his calls." Billy continued to shake his head. "The _Pegasus_ is a Mercury class battlestar, more modern, better armed and armored than the _Galactica_. The Commander knows that he's at a distinct disadvantage. He probably expects to loose." Billy stopped shaking his head, and looked into Roslin's eyes. "He probably expects to die."

Roslin sat very still as the meaning of her aide's words crystallized. _He expects to die._ "Billy, get me the civilian captains on the wireless. And try to get Admiral Cain on the line."

On _Pegasus_ Colonel Fisk received the call from the _Colonial One_, and per Admiral Cain's standing orders, informed the caller that Admiral Cain was "unavailable." He was surprised when the boy on the other end of the line didn't protest. Fisk returned his attention to the CIC and the confrontation with the _Galactica_. He knew the _Pegasus_ outgunned the antique battlestar and Cain would destroy the _Galactica_ without a thought on the consequences. He didn't feel sorry for Commander Adama; he felt sorry for himself. He would have to continue serving with Cain after Adama and his crew had been sent to Elysium. Fisk was jolted from his train of thought by another transmission from the _Colonial One_. "Admiral Cain! Pr – Ms. Roslin is making a broadcast to the Fleet."

"Colonel, I don't care what the schoolteacher has to say. I thought I made that perfectly clear." Cain frowned across CIC at Fisk.

"Y-yes, sir," Fisk stammered, "But I really think you should hear this Admiral."

Cain looked at Fisk through narrowed eyes, hands on hips. She stared at the Colonel for a half-minute before speaking. "Very well. Put it on speaker. And bring the main batteries on line." She turned away from Fisk.

"Aye, sir. On speaker. Main batteries coming on line," Fisk acknowledged.

President Roslin's voice issued from the speakers.

"_This is Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies. Admiral Cain, I am broadcasting to you on an open channel. As President of the Twelve Colonies, and with the consent of the Quorum of Twelve, I am ordering you to stand down. You do not have the authority to pass, let alone carry out, a death sentence on any member of the Colonial Fleet or any Colonial citizen. You are hereby ordered to release Chief Tyrol and Lt. Agathon. If you do not, I have ordered Commander Adama to take whatever action he deems is necessary to prevent your illegal acts._

_To the citizens of the Colonies: The will of the Gods is for this Fleet to go to the promised land of Earth. The _Galactica _has and will continue to protect us on that journey. I call upon you all, as your President and chosen leader, to assist the _Galactica_ and Commander Adama in any way you are able."_

Admiral Cain snorted. "What is that crazy schoolteacher doing?" She turned to Fisk. "Authorize the vipers to engage any ship that makes a hostile move."

"Those ships are unarmed and crammed with civilians," Fisk blurted in reply. He blanched at the look on Admiral Cain's face. "Sir," he added hastily.

Cain glared at Fisk. "Colonel, Adama and his schoolteacher have crossed the line. They are leaving me no choice. Transmit the order. Target the _Galactica_ with the main batteries. And may the Gods have mercy on their souls."

Colonel Tigh listened to the broadcast by President Roslin. He leaned across the tactical table toward Adama. "Did that woman just order us to take on Admiral Cain?" After a nod from Adama, a feral grin spread across Tigh's face. He pitched his voice so only the Commander would hear. "We oughta just nuke the bitch."

Adama's answering grin was tempered by his concern for Tyrol, Helo, and the crew of the _Pegasus_. He looked at Tigh. _Don't think that thought hasn't crossed my mind._ Without looking away from Tigh, Adama called, "Dee, Vipers on weapons hold. They may fire only if fired upon or on my orders." He paused to give Dualla a chance to broadcast the message. "And get me Admiral Cain."

After a moment Dualla said, "Admiral Cain, sir."

"Sir, the _Pegasus_ has brought her main batteries on line. Targeting the _Galactica_," Lt. Gaeta called from his station. "Several of the civilian ships have left formation. The _Carialle_ and the _Adriatic_ closing on the _Pegasus_."

Adama picked up the handset. "Admiral Cain, you heard the President. You can either stand down or we start shooting at each other. It's your call."

An alarm sounded in CIC. "Dradis contact. Multiple Dradis contacts. Colonial signals and Cylon raiders," Lt. Gaeta called. The pitch of his voice rose and his words stumbled over each other. "Multiple Cylon raiders. Eight. No, ten Cylon raiders. They're after the raptors from the _Pegasus_."

Adama put his hand over the mouthpiece of his handset. "Dee, tell the Fleet to jump. Send the Vipers after the Cylons. Mr. Gaeta, spin up the FTL drives." He removed his hand and spoke into the handset. "It appears we have more pressing business, Admiral. I suggest we settle our differences later and attend to the Cylons now."

Cain's reply crackled in Adama's ear. "This isn't over Commander." The connection went dead.


	5. Chapter 5: Fitting the Curve, Part Two

DISCLAIMER: See **AUTHOR'S NOTES**

SPOILERS: You have been **WARNED!**

Many Thanks to emmaockham for her patient beta and wonderful comments.

And a tip of the hat to karihan for her wonderful story "Essence"

This chapter "overlaps" canon. So it's AU, but isn't all fanfic? This chapter is also long so I'm posting it in Four Parts.

CHAPTER FOUR

(takes place during and after "Pegasus" and "Resurrection Ship")

**Fitting the Curve**

**Part Two**

"_Galactica _vipers engaging raiders. The Fleet has begun to jump," Gaeta reported, his voice lower and steadier. "Dradis contact. Eight more Cylon raiders. The _Pegasus _vipers have engaged."

Dualla reported. "_Colonial One_ has jumped. All civilian ships away, sir."

"Dee, recall the vipers." Adama turned to Gaeta. "Mr. Gaeta prepare for jump."

"Dradis contact," Gaeta squeaked. "Cylon base star. Sir, the _Pegasus_ has jumped."

Dualla gasped and Adama turned to face her. "What is it Dee?" he rasped.

"Sir, not all of her vipers have been recovered by the _Pegasus_."

Adama's eyebrows rose. "Invite those pilots aboard the _Galactica_." He turned back to the tactical table.

Tigh leaned forward and muttered, "She left them behind. The minute that basestar showed up she took off. Is that what she's been doing all along?"

Adama said nothing, just stood, and watched the Dradis screen as the vipers fought for their lives. He was worried, and his worry grew, as it became obvious that the _Pegasus _vipers were slow – slow at returning to the battlestar and slow at landing. He gritted his teeth and gripped the edge of the tactical table – waiting.

Dualla called, "All vipers aboard, sir."

"Basestar closing. Missiles fired," Gaeta reported. "Four missiles incoming."

"Execute jump," Adama ordered, then widened his stance and waited for impact of the Cylon missiles. He gripped the edge of the tactical table more tightly, and only loosened it when he felt the familiar dislocation of FTL flight.

The battlestar _Galactica_ winked away from the Cylon missiles and reappeared some distance from the Fleet.

"Get the vipers ready to launch," Adama called. "Mr. Gaeta, where is the _Pegasus_?

Lt. Gaeta hesitated before replying, "The _Pegasus_ in the center of the Fleet. The ships appear to be in close formation with her."

Adama walked over and studied the Dradis console over Gaeta's shoulder. He grunted then returned to his position at the tactical table. He looked at Tigh, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. "Those ships aren't in formation. They flying as close to the _Pegasus_ as they can get."

Tigh's feral grin returned. "She can't do anything without hitting the civilians. And we have most of her vipers on the _Galactica_."

Adama nodded. "Dee, get me . . ."

"Sir," Dualla interrupted. "The President is on the line."

Adama picked up the handset. "Madame President."

"Commander, I can't have my military personnel shooting at each other. I want you and Admiral Cain aboard the _Colonial One_ immediately." Roslin ordered.

"She's still holding my men," Adama rasped.

"I have made it very clear to Admiral Cain that I hold her personally responsible for Lt. Agathon's and Chief Tyrol's well being." Roslin replied calmly. "I want to hear from both of you what exactly is going on and the evidence against your men. I will settle this."

Adama smiled at the thought of the President . . . _Laura_. . . taking on Admiral Cain. "Of course Madame President. I'm on my way." He replaced the handset in its holder and turned to Tigh. "Notify the flight deck. I'm taking a raptor over to the _Colonial One_." He held Tigh's eyes and lowered his voice. "Stay at condition two. Keep an eye on the _Pegasus_."

Thigh grunted. "Don't worry I'll cover your six." Tigh's gaze moved over Adama's shoulder and surprise spread over the Colonel's face.

Adama turned around and saw Major Cottle barreling through the hatch. Cottle crossed CIC and stopped next to Adama and Tigh. He pulled himself into attention – as close to attention as Cottle ever got. The Doctor glared at Adama. "We've got to talk. Now. Sir."

Adama felt his stomach drop. _Lee._ The _Galactica_'s CMO never came to CIC -- except for a medical emergency or to deliver bad news. There was no medical emergency in CIC. Adama swallowed. "In the wardroom, Doctor." He turned to Tigh. "You have the deck, Colonel." Adama turned and moved across the CIC, Cottle trailing him.

Once the door closed behind them, Adama turned to face the CMO. He stood stiffly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Cottle saw the look on the Commander's face, and held up a hand to stop Adama from speaking. "Lee and Lt. Thrace are fine – as far as I know."

Adama closed his eyes and sagged against the table. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He opened his eyes and looked at Cottle. "So what's the problem Doctor?"

"Do you know what happened in Sh—the Cylon's cell?" Cottle didn't wait for Adama to answer. "Admiral Cain sent over her 'Cylon interrogator' – a Lt. Thorne. He told our Marines to beat it. 'Admiral's orders.' Well the two did as they were told and beat it – straight into Baltar's observation bay. They watched the whole thing."

Adama stared at Cottle. "What did they see Doctor?"

Cottle went on. "Thorne and two _Pegasus_ Marines went into the cell. Thorne showed the prisoner a picture. He apparently didn't like her answer since he hit her and grabbed her by the throat. He threw her on her rack and his bullyboys held her down. Then Thorne dropped his pants."

Adama paled and turned his back to Cottle. He leaned with both hands on the table; his head bowed. "Doctor you mean to say that Lt. Thorne assaulted the prisoner?" His head snapped up, and when he turned to face Cottle; his back went ramrod straight, and his hands fisted at his sides. "In _my_ brig?"

Cottle nodded. "He didn't get to finish. Chief Tyrol and Lt. Agathon burst into the cell, and pulled Thorne off the prisoner. One of them hit Thorne and he fell. The blow may have killed him. I found some hair and brain tissue on a bolt sticking out of the bulkhead in the cell. If I can get some tissue samples from Thorne I can match them up."

"So Thorne died while raping our prisoner," Adama growled. It was a statement not a question.

Cottle frowned. "You knew he was dead?" At Adama's nod, the CMO shoved his hands into the pockets of his white coat. "The way I see it – his death was an accident and entirely justified. Raping prisoners is a violation of the CCMJ. Even if they are Cylons."

Cottle paced the wardroom. "Bill, there's something very wrong on the _Pegasus_. According to the crew who transferred, Thorne's been doing the same thing to their Cylon prisoner -- and encouraging his men to join in. All with the knowledge and approval of Admiral Cain." Cottle stopped pacing and stood before Adama. "You've got to do something."

Adama met the Doctor's eyes. "I already have – and I will, Doctor."

XXXX

Roslin sat behind her desk on the _Colonial One_, while Adama sat in one of the chairs left from the time the ship was a passenger liner.

Adama resumed his report to the President. "I spoke with Major Cottle and then interviewed a number of crew who transferred from the _Pegasus _to the _Galactica_. The _Pegasus_ started with a civilian fleet too. Cain stripped them for parts and left them behind. She conscripted anyone with useful skills into the service and those who refused had their families shot."

Billy opened the curtain and walked into the President's office. "Admiral Cain has arrived, Madame President."

"Send her in," Roslin nodded. "Thank-you Billy."

Cain swept angrily into the cabin. "All right Commander, let's get this settled." She turned to Roslin. "Get those ships away from my battlestar."

Roslin stood, and looked levelly at Cain. "The Fleet will remain in position. And you will not execute Lt. Agathon and Chief Tyrol – not until I have a chance to review the evidence against them."

"I want them back on the _Galactica_," Adama growled.

Cain rounded on Adama. "I don't give a damn about what you want. You're frakking lucky you're not staring at your own warrant!"

"Admiral Cain," Roslin retorted. "You do not have the authority to impose a death sentence on any one. I will conduct an investigation and there will be a general court-martial to determine their guilt or innocence. Until then these men will remain in the brig on the _Pegasus_. Do I make myself clear?"

Cain's glare jerked from Adama to Roslin. "You two just don't get it, do you? We're at war and you're arguing legal niceties. I can't believe you've survived this long."

Roslin folded her arms and gazed evenly at Cain. With a lift of her chin, she firmly met Cain's eyes.

Shaking with rage, Cain turned to Adama. "Fine. I'll postpone the execution. We have a more important issue to deal with – the Cylons. Thrace has obtained pictures of what the Cylons call a 'resurrection ship.' A ship that enables them to download to a new body after we kill them. To destroy it would be a major blow."

Adama nodded, looking only at Roslin. "Agreed."

Cain continued, "I'll meet you aboard the _Galactica_ at 1400 to discuss the operation, Commander." She stalked out of the office without another word.

Roslin watched Cain leave, startled by the intensity of the Admiral's rage. She rounded her desk, took off her glasses and tapped them against her chin._ It doesn't make sense for her to be that furious with him._ She glanced at Adama, who was stoically silent staring at the bulkhead behind her desk. _There has to be more to this conflict. _Roslin turned to face him. "Tell me about Admiral Cain." It was phrased as an order, not a request.

"There's nothing to tell." Adama didn't look up at her.

"Bull," she snapped. Roslin sat down in the chair next to Adama's. "You know more about her. _Tell_ me about Admiral Cain." _Come on Bill, what's going on between the two of you?_

Adama sighed, flicked a glance at Roslin and flinched. _She's giving me _that _look._ _Stubborn._ Adama looked back at the bulkhead. "She was a good pilot. Talented. Aggressive."

"You've served with her before," Roslin breathed.

The Commander nodded. "Not long after I returned to the Colonial Fleet. She was one of my squadron commanders when I was the CAG. She wanted to be my wingman, and she figured the shortest route to that goal was through my rack." Adama continued to stare at the far bulkhead, lost in memory. "I turned her down – for both." He turned and looked at Roslin who had raised her eyebrows. Adama's lips curved into a smile. "She's not my type. Besides I was married."

Roslin smiled as well. _He spurned her._ "Is that's why she hates you?"

Adama laughed. "No." He shook his head. "As her superior I wrote her fitness report. It was less than complimentary." His smile became wistful.

_Less than complimentary._ Roslin waited, keenly interested.

"I wrote: 'while Captain Cain is a talented, aggressive pilot she lacks flexibility -- both in her flying and her thinking. In a situation that requires initiative she is unable to adapt and demonstrates an inability to deviate from a course once chosen.'"

Adama turned and leaned back in his chair. "Admiral Cain was one of the youngest admirals in the Fleet. She'd been promoted over officers more senior than herself. Until that fitrep she had received early promotion to every rank. It kept her from early promotion to major. I don't think she's ever forgiven me for that."

_Ruthless. Ambitious. _Roslin let out a breath. _And now Cain has a chance for revenge._ "I'm afraid this can only end one way . . ." she paused.

Adama leaned forward and raised a questioning eyebrow.

". . . you've gotta kill her." She whispered intently.

Adama's eyes snapped to Roslin's'. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"Admiral Cain, she'll never stop. She'll come after you. Even if you survive this time, after I'm . . ." Roslin looked away from Adama. She wrapped her arms around herself. "When Baltar is President . . ." Roslin faltered again. "She'll keep coming after you. She'll only stop when she's dead. You have to kill her."

"Laura," Adama said softly. "Do you trust me?" When she didn't turn her head he repeated, "Do you trust me?"

Roslin turned to meet Adama's eyes. "I trust you, Bill."_ With my life and the future of the human race._

"Then trust me on this." Adama's voice dropped to its lowest register. "I won't let that happen. But I won't assassinate a fellow officer." His gaze intensified. "That would make me worse than the Cylons."


	6. Chapter 6: Fitting the Curve, Part Three

**DISCLAIMER:** See **AUTHOR'S NOTES**

**SPOILERS:** You have been **WARNED!**

Many Thanks to emmaockham for her patient beta and wonderful comments.

And a tip of the hat to karihan for her wonderful story "Essence"

This chapter "overlaps" canon. So it's AU, but isn't all fanfic? This chapter is also long so I'm posting it in Four Parts.

CHAPTER FOUR

(takes place during and after "Pegasus" and "Resurrection Ship")

**Fitting the Curve**

**Part Three**

Adama watched as first Cain and her officers, and then his son left the War Room. They had finished discussing the attack on the 'resurrection ship.' _Cain is thinking the same thing as me. _He grunted. _The President's right. She won't stop until I'm dead. And then what happens to the Fleet? I have to stop Cain, in any way I can . . . _

Adama turned to face Lt. Thrace. He dropped his voice to a whisper and grated, "When I give you the order, I want you to pull out your weapon and shoot Admiral Cain in the head."

Thrace's expression went from confusion to shocked disbelief. "Wha . . . No. Sir." She paused. "Permission to speak freely, sir." At Adama's nod, she continued, "Admiral Cain wants to return to Caprica and rescue our people there."

Adama grunted, "The _Pegasus_ and the _Galactica_ against the entire Cylon fleet? That's a suicide mission . . . you know it."

Thrace looked at him though narrowed eyes. "We could do a quick hit and run. Not a full scale assault. It would work."

Adama continued to gaze silently at her. He raised an eyebrow, questioningly. _Com'on Starbuck._ "Admiral Cain proposed such an attack?"

She shook her head doubtfully. "No, but . . . "

"Kara," he interrupted gently. "Cain's read my logs. She knew before she talked to you – that you went home and found survivors. And she knew how you feel about returning to Caprica. She's manipulating you." _ Like I am now._ Adama swallowed the bile that rose into his throat. "The _Pegasus_ had a civilian fleet. Admiral Cain stripped it for parts and people, then left it behind."

Thrace's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

"I spoke with the crew who transferred from the _Pegasus _to the _Galactica_." He paused then continued, "She drafted anyone with valuable skills and shot their family if they refused to serve. She executed her XO for questioning an order." _Now I play my trump card._ Adama gritted his teeth and forced out his next words. "Cain is planning to kill me. She's probably giving Fisk his orders right now."

"Kill you . . .why. . ." Thrace burst out, incredulously. She recoiled from Adama. "Why would she . . ."

Adama nodded and raised both eyebrows, looked steadily at Thrace, giving her the time she needed to work through the logic of his statement and to see the implications for herself.

"Because you'll oppose her. Because you know what happened to the civilian ships . . ." She took a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

Thrace's expression hardened. She straightened to attention. "Yes, sir. When you give the order, I shoot Admiral Cain in the head."

**XXXX**

The Fleet took its position and prepared the ambush of the Cylon Fleet. The decoy ships began to simulate mining operations. Adama waited, outwardly calm, but inwardly feeling the stomach dropping tension that always preceded a battle.

An alarm sounded. "Dradis contact. Multiple Cylon raiders," Gaeta reported.

Adama grunted and said, "Signal the Fleet to jump. Mr. Gaeta, spin up the FTL drives." He looked up at the Dradis screen.

Dualla reported. "The Fleet has jumped."

Without taking his eyes off the Dradis, Adama ordered, "Execute jump."

The _Galactica_ winked away from the Cylons and reappeared with the Fleet.

"Messages from the decoys, sir. They're screaming for help." Dualla said calmly. "They have the entire Cylon fleet after them." She fell silent for a moment, then called, "Sir, the FTL drive on the 'resurrection ship' has been destroyed."

"Take us back, Mr. Gaeta," Adama said.

The _Galactica_ flashed into the midst of the Cylon fleet.

Gaeta shouted, "Sir the _Pegasus _didn't jump. Cylon basestars closing."

Tigh sidled up to Adama. "What's she waiting for? They've taken the bait."

Adama didn't look at Tigh. "She's making sure, Colonel."

Dualla exclaimed, "Sir, I'm receiving a distress signal from the blackbird." She paused. "It's the automatic beacon, sir."

"Alert the search and rescue raptor, Dee," Adama called. "Maybe he had time to eject." The Commander pushed down the distress that rose from his gut. _Let him be alive. Hold on, Lee. We'll find you son._

"Sir," Gaeta reported. "The _Pegasus _has arrived. She's engaging the second basestar."

"Move us to attack position. All weapons fire at will." Adama ordered. "Launch vipers."

As the _Pegasus_ and the _Galactica_ assaulted the Cylon basestars and the viper squadrons attacked the disabled resurrection ship, the basestars responded with a barrage of missiles targeting the battlestars and launched their raiders to engage the vipers.

"Incoming missiles. CBDR. They're gonna hit," Gaeta called.

Adama gripped the edge of the tactical table. The impact of the Cylon missiles drove him forward, doubling him over. He barely missed impacting his head on the tabletop. "Mr. Gaeta, order batteries alpha through echo to switch to salvo fire."

The _Pegasus_, guns blazing, drove through one Cylon basestar. The combined viper squadrons destroyed the 'resurrection ship' and the barrage from the _Galactica_'s guns destroyed her adversary.

The vipers and raptors began cleaning up the Cylon raiders.

"All the remaining Cylons have jumped way," Gaeta said relieved. "It's over, sir,"

"Admiral Cain calling, sir," Dee called from her position at the communications console.

_It's time to finish this._ Adama picked up the handset. "Congratulations Admiral Cain, it appears you have a victory."

Cain sounded breathless. "Congratulations to you and your crew, Commander. We have a victory. Is Colonel Fisk available?"

Adama hesitated and glanced across the tactical table to where Fisk stood. _He looks uncomfortable._ He thought about the orders he had given to Kara. _Chances are that Fisk has the same orders from Cain._ "Yes, sir. He's here in CIC."

"Put the Colonel on the line," Cain ordered.

Tigh came to stand next to Adama. "Notice the Marines," he said softly, indicating the Marine guard in CIC with a nod of his head. "They're all from the _Pegasus_."

Adama's quick glance around confirmed Tigh's observation. _I see it, old friend._

Tigh raised one eyebrow and nodded. _Don't worry. I've got your back._

"Of course," Adama replied calmly into the handset. "May I offer my personal congratulations to your CAG?"

"Oh, go ahead, Adama." Cain snapped back, exasperated.

"Colonel Fisk, Admiral Cain would like to speak with you." Adama watched Fisk pick up another handset. He felt Tigh move from his side.

Captain Thrace's voice crackled in his ear. "Thrace here, sir."

"Congratulations on a successful mission, Captain," Adama replied. "Have you accounted for all of your pilots?

"There's something I need to tell you, sir." Kara's voice wavered. "Captain Adama – Lee – is among the missing."

Adama's grip on the handset grew tighter. "I know, Starbuck. A raptor from the_ Galactica _is searching for him." He gritted his teeth as his own words rang in his mind. _'We still commit murder . . . And we still visit all of our sins upon our children.'_ "Captain . . . "

"Sir, raptor three reports they have found Apollo. They have him on board, and . . ," Dee reported from her station, ". . . he's okay, sir."

Adama sagged against the tactical table. _Safe._ His eyes closed briefly. His thoughts whirled. '_Is this how you settle you differences?' 'It's not enough to live -- you have to have something to live for.' 'Are we worth saving?'_ Adama turned his attention back to his conversation with Thrace. "I've just received a report. Lee's okay." He paused and took a deep breath. _We must prove ourselves worth saving. This ends now._ "Congratulations again on a job well done. Stand down, Captain." He broke the connection.

Adama glanced across the tactical table. Tigh, with a look of utter calm on his face, stood next to Colonel Fisk.

Fisk, on the other hand, was pale and wide-eyed. "Yes, sir," Fisk said. "But I'm afraid that's not possible, Admiral." Fisk replaced the phone in its cradle.

Adama rounded the table and stood by Fisk, opposite Tigh. He leaned close to Fisk and quietly said, "Colonel, despite Admiral Cain's wishes, you are no longer welcome on board the _Galactica_. Please return to the _Pegasus_ – immediately."

Adama turned toward the entry to CIC. He gestured toward a group of men standing near the hatch. They were Marines from both ships. The _Galactica_'s Marines had their weapons trained on the others. "And take your men with you."

Adama stepped away from Fisk. "Dee," he ordered. "Call the flight deck and have them ready a raptor. Colonel Fisk is returning to the _Pegasus_."

Tigh leaned against Fisk, pushing him toward the hatch. He had a weapon pressed against Fisk's chest. It had been concealed by the tactical table. "You heard the Commander. Let's go, Colonel."


	7. Chapter 7: Fitting the Curve, Part Four

**DISCLAIMER**: See **AUTHOR'S NOTES**

**SPOILERS:** You have been **WARNED!**

Many Thanks to emmaockham for her patient beta and wonderful comments.

And a tip of the hat to karihan for her wonderful story "Essence"

This chapter "overlaps" canon. So it's AU, but isn't all fanfic? This chapter is also long so I'm posting it in Four Parts.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

(takes place during and after "Pegasus" and "Resurrection Ship")

**Fitting the Curve**

**Part Four**

Commander Adama pulled off his glasses and laid them on top of the reports littering his desk. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his char. _Just a few moments, then I'll finish._ He sighed. The paperwork seemed to have tripled and he had _all_ of it to do again.

His expression turned grim and he sat up. _Helena Cain was a good pilot._ Adama hadn't hated Cain; he had violently disagreed with her, and had almost killed her. Even before the Cylon attack on the Colonies, he had disagreed with the path she followed; a path that led to public recognition and early promotion.

But he had never hated her.

He was saddened by her loss. _Killed by a Cylon. Aboard her ship. _His hand strayed to the left side of his chest, pressing on the omnipresent ache that lingered there. _All this has happened before, all this will happen again._ He rubbed his eyes. Two assassination attempts against the Fleet Commander, one successful. Both shot by Cylon agents aboard their battlestars._ Maybe they'll come after me again. Is this the Cylon plan? Is this how they plan on breaching our defenses?_ He shook his head to clear it of useless speculations and re-donned his glasses.

In less than an hour he worked his way through the papers on his desk and reached the bottom of his in-box. The only thing that remained was a packet from the _Colonial One_. It consisted of a large envelope bound to a sheaf of paper.

He pulled the packet apart and held the papers. It was the promotion list he had given to Roslin a few weeks earlier. Adama leafed through the list, and smiled when he saw the President's signature approving all the promotions. _Good news._ His smile faded as he recalled that some of those promotions were now posthumous.

He picked up the large envelope and froze with it in his hands. _I haven't seen one of these since . . . _since the orders came from Fleet Headquarters that turned the _Galactica_ into a museum and sent him into retirement. He turned the envelope over in his hands. The return address read "Office of the President" instead of "Colonial Fleet Headquarters." But as before it was addressed to "William Adama, Commander, CF." He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. _Sooner or later, we can't hide from the things we've done anymore. I offered her my resignation once. If she's asking for it now, I'll give it to her. _He opened the envelope and spilled its contents onto his desk.

Inside were several sheets of official appearing paper and another envelope, one he recognized as being from President Roslin's personal stationary.

_Laura's stationary_.

He felt comfortable thinking about her as Laura now. He had accepted sometime after their return from Kobol that he cared for her deeply, and that he needed her. He even thought that he might love her, but he knew she was dying and was saving her energy for her work; she had none to waste on him. He picked up the envelope. It was addressed to "Bill" in her spidery handwriting. He opened the envelope and pulled out the enclosed note.

**_Bill,_**

**_Tom Zarek may be right about one thing. We need to stop clinging to the past. The old ways of governing no longer apply to our current situation. We need to create a new paradigm._**

**_Back on Kobol you forgave me – and I let you. I didn't ask for it nor did I really accept your forgiveness; at the time I didn't feel I needed forgiving. However the events of the recent past and the observations of my closest advisor have now made me think otherwise._**

**_Please accept this act as my way of humbly asking for your forgiveness and showing you I have truly accepted it._**

**_And please forgive me for all the loose threads I'm leaving you. It is my prayer that this advancement will aid you in that struggle._**

**_And Bill, I forgive you as well -- even though you have never asked._**

**_That's what family does, isn't it?_**

**_Laura_**

**_P.S. Be at the press conference. (1400 tomorrow on the Colonial One.)_**

Adama blinked. _Family?_ The ache in his chest flared. _She forgives me. Even when she's apologizing she's in control._ He chuckled. _Closest advisor? Billy?_ He paused, puzzled; then it hit him. _Advancement?_

Adama laid down Laura's note and picked up the pieces of paper. They were orders from the President of the Twelve Colonies and the Quorum of Twelve promoting William Adama to the rank of Admiral and appointing Admiral Adama to the newly created post of "Fleet Admiral, who is the senior ranking member of the Colonial Fleet, acts as principal military advisor to the President, is granted command of all military forces, and is charged to protect Humanity from all enemies -- external and internal."

He dropped the orders on his desk and fell back in his chair. _Frak. It really is a world gone mad. 'Fleet Admiral'? Damn political . . ._ He stopped mid-rant. _Billy Keikeya._

A devious smile spread across Adama's face as he turned to his bookshelf. He searched for a particular volume. Once he spotted it, Adama pulled a battered copy of The Warrior's Manual from the shelf and flipped to the chapter on "Customs, Courtesies, and Protocol" to read the script for a promotion ceremony._ Oh, Mr. Keikeya, if Dee has pointed you to the procedures, no doubt you've informed the President on the proper protocol for a promotion ceremony . . ._

**XXXX**

President Roslin sat in a chair on the _Colonial One_. The tears flowed down her cheeks, as she again tallied their losses. Commander Adama was seated in the neighboring chair, leaning forward, offering comfort merely by his presence.

Roslin sighed. "I still wonder if it was worth the cost."

"We are still here," Adama said quietly. "While it is a tragedy that so many have lost their lives, we have struck a blow against the Cylons. A blow they will not soon forget." He bowed his head. "It's sad that Admiral Cain lost her life as well."

Roslin cocked her head at Adama. "But it certainly solved one of our problems. That is one mess I'll not be leaving for you to clean up . . ." The President held out a small black box. "Admiral."

Adama leaned forward and took the box. He flipped open the top, nestled inside were the insignia of an admiral in the Colonial Fleet.

Roslin continued, "In a moment I'll explain to the press that we need a Fleet Admiral and announce your promotion."

Adama nodded. He continued to stare at the contents of the box. "Are you planning on pinning these on my collar, Madame President?"

Roslin cocked her head. "Yes, Admiral. That _is_ how it's done."

"These are new," Adama said, frowning.

"Yes, Bill they are new." Roslin narrowed her eyes. "Is that a problem?"

"Warriors are a superstitious lot. Pilots even more so." Adama looked at Roslin. "Did you know that a Viper pilot never wears his first set of wings?" When Roslin shook her head, he continued, "Viper pilots break their first set of wings into two pieces and never allow the pieces to come together. Pilots believe if those pieces are ever together again, on that day that pilot's luck will run out."

Roslin drew her brows together. "What does that have to do with the insignia?"

"It's just another example. Wearing new insignia is unlucky. When an officer is promoted to flag rank, a mentor gives them an old set of insignia for the promotion ceremony – for luck. The old insignia brought their original owner luck -- as they have survived and prospered."

Billy stepped into the office. "Madame President, the Press Corps is ready."

Adama stood. Roslin leaned forward and tried to stand. She pushed on the armrests of her chair, but failed to gain any leverage. She fell back, muttering, "Frak."

Adama reached for Roslin's arm. "May I, Madame President?" He smiled at her.

Laura smiled back. "Please."

Adama carefully took her arm and helped her to her feet. She staggered and he gripped her arm more tightly. _Easy Bill. She's in pain. She's dying. _He wished he could make both those facts go away.

Last night, after reading Laura's note in his quarters, and the script for a promotion ceremony, he knew Billy had told the President that protocol demanded she pin the insignia on his collar and then step back and salute the new admiral. But he had decided a salute wasn't enough. _For me or for her._

She gained her feet and he left his hand on her arm, steadying her. He gently turned her to face him and found her eyes. "You wouldn't want to cause me bad luck, would you Madame President?"

"Of course not, Admiral." Roslin tried to smile.

Adama reached up and brushed Roslin's hair away from her face. "In that case . . ." He let his hand linger on her cheek, enjoying the softness against his callused palm. "You'll have to kiss me."

Roslin laughed, surprised. "Kiss you?" She put a restraining hand on Adama's arm.

"Yes, Madame President, and since you can't do that in front of the press, we'll just have to do it here, now." Adama leaned forward; slowly his eyes fixed on the President's -- _Laura's_ -- lips.

Roslin's other hand came up to rest against Adama's chest. "A kiss for luck Admiral?' She smiled.

"Yes, Madame President, we'll fall back on another tradition." He saw her eyes close and her face tilt up toward his. He breathed into her mouth as their lips met. "The good luck kiss."


	8. Chapter 8: Understanding

**INTERPOLATIONS**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**Understanding**

(takes place during "Scar")

Her suffering ended with the day,  
Yet lived she at its close,  
And breathed the long, long night away  
In statue-like repose  
-- James Aldrich (1810 – 1856) _A Death-Bed._

XXXXX

Roslin sat on the broad leather couch in Adama's quarters. The report of Thrace's conversation with Sharon, their Cylon prisoner, rested on her knees. She stared beyond it at the deck and listened to the scratchy voices of Viper pilots on patrol.

When Adama had invited her to stay in his quarters, she had refused. He had insisted, explaining that now the _Galactica_ had very little extra room, as additional crew had been added for their current mission. She had relented and spent many productive hours working in the relative seclusion of his private space. _I don't get much peace on Colonial One. It's amazing how much I can get finished when I'm not interrupted every five minutes._

Taking a break from her work, she had explored the Admiral's quarters and discovered some recorded music among his books. She had gone to Adama's desk, looking for a way to play the music. After studying his communications console, she had begun randomly punching buttons. The third one she hit had filled the compartment with sound.

She had listened and smiled to herself when she recognized the stereotypical pilot chatter. Her smile had broadened when she imagined Admiral Adama . . . _Bill_ . . . in CIC listening to these same voices as his Viper pilots protected the _Majahual._

She had returned to Adama's couch and turned to her next task -- reading Lt. Thrace's report of her conversation with the Valerii Cylon. After a few minutes of perusing the document, the voice of the author drew her attention back to the pilot idioms filling the compartment.

Captain Thrace's voice crackled in the air. "_Galactica_, Starbuck. Wilco return to base."

Dualla answered, "Roger, Starbuck."

Another voice called, "BB, Duck. Four raiders. From behind the rock, left ten. Coming hard, looks like Scar."

Someone nervously replied, "Duck, BB. What do we do?"

Duck ordered confidently, "We don't have enough fuel to mix it up. We bug out, BB. Let our relief deal with 'em. We're going home."

BB protested, "Negative! Starbuck said to turn into any attack. Weapons hot!"

"Gods damn it, BB. This is the frakkin' exception. Abort and reform." Duck snapped.

Thrace's voice again. "Duck, Starbuck. Position?"

"Four-two alpha. Behind the big spud. We need a hand, right frakkin' now." Duck sounded scared, and worried.

"Duck, be there in six minutes," Starbuck said reassuringly.

Another voice broke in, "Duck, Kat. Eight minutes out."

"Duck, they're on my six, oh, my Gods." BB's panicked voice blared into the room. His screams closely followed and were ended by an explosion.

Roslin continued to listen as the other pilots broke off and headed back to the _Galactica_.

Her eyes drifted back to the report. _Dying is a painful and traumatic experience._ She shivered. _Dying . . ._

She heard Admiral Adama enter his quarters. His steady measured tread paused, then moved away from her. The voices of the pilots cut off abruptly.

An image flashed before her eyes. _Adama supine, unmoving beyond the clear curtains of intensive care._

Again Adama's steps moved away from her. The next sounds were the clink of glasses and the gurgling of liquid.

A black military boot and a blue clad leg appeared in her line of vision. The leg gently nudged her knee. Her eyes drifted up and fixed on his weathered hand, which held a glass of clear liquid. As she grasped the glass, her fingers brushed his. He maintained his hold, just long enough for her to notice. She returned her eyes and the water to her lap.

The blue leg disappeared from her sight and she felt him settle on the couch next to her. _Not as far away as he used to sit. _One corner of her mouth moved up slightly. Another image winked in her mind's eye. _The harsh lights of Sickbay illuminating a red line down the center of Adama's pale chest._

"What do you remember about dying?" She froze; startled that she had spoken aloud.

"About dying?" Adama growled. "Nothing. About getting shot..."

When he didn't continue, Roslin turned and looked at him. He was staring across the compartment, his eyes unfocused. Slowly his jaw clenched; his breathing quickened. Adama's eyes closed and he took a slow deep breath.

"Bill . . ." She reached out and put her hand on his arm. After a moment, he put his free hand over hers, and opened his eyes, but he didn't turn his head. An anguished look flitted across his face.

"You remember getting shot?" she prodded gently, giving him a chance to change the subject, and hoping that he wouldn't.

"Remember?" Adama's lips curled into a bitter smile. "At odd moments I relive it."

"An odd moment like this?" Roslin pursed her lips. _Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up. It's too late now._

"Yes." Adama snorted softly. "I flashback to that day." His eyes drifted down to focus on their hands. "It happens all over again. I shake Racetrack's hand and turn to shake Boomer's. She smiles at me. Her hand comes up, as I reach toward her." His voice faded and his hand tightened on Roslin's. "A split second before she fires, I see the gun. The muzzle flashes . . ." He inhaled sharply. ". . . and I hear Lee screaming for me." He took another deep breath and slowly blinked. He turned to look at Roslin. Fine beads of perspiration dotted his upper lip. His expression was grim. "That's it."

"That's it." Roslin echoed his bleak tone. She continued hesitantly. "You don't remember anything else – until you woke up in Sickbay?"

"I didn't say that." One corner of Adama's mouth moved up minutely. "Almost everything else is jumbled, fuzzy." He took her hand in his and gently lifted it from his arm. He stared at the contents of his glass before raising it. "Cottle told me that unconscious patients, on some level, are aware of their surroundings. They respond to touch, smell, and sound. To try to bring them out of a coma, patients are treated by exposing them to familiar music and voices." He took a drink from his glass.

"So I'm not sure which parts of my memories are real and which aren't -- except for two things."

She waited for him to continue. He looked at the far bulkhead, seeming far away and lost in the past. "What two things?" she finally asked.

He captured her gaze. His face was stoic but his eyes were filled with sadness and regret.

"I remember my son . . ." His voice cracked. He turned away for a moment and took a sip from his glass. "I remember Lee, holding my hand and saying, 'Good-bye Dad.'" He paused. His stare blazed at her. "And I remember _you_ . . . saying, 'He's going to be all right. You know that.' With Lee responding, 'Yeah. I know that.'"

A phrase from Thrace's report floated through Roslin's mind. _Be careful of Scar. . . He's filled with rage._ _Rage._ For a moment, she saw a ghost shimmer in Adama's eyes. _You thought I knew what was going to happen. _She turned the hand he held and softly squeezed. _You thought I'd had a vision and didn't warn you._ Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked rapidly. "I never had a vision about you, Bill. I was trying to reassure your son."

The fire in his eyes faded and Adama went on. "When I woke up in Sickbay, I was furious. With Kara. With Lee." He hesitated. "With you. You lied to me. Betrayed me."

_Scar's filled with bitter memories_. The words of the Valerii Cylon sounded in Roslin's memory. "I did what I felt I had to do." She met his eyes firmly.

His expression became wistful. "Dualla reminded me that I had lied as well. I made a promise I knew I couldn't keep. To take all of us to Earth." He shook his head. "I finally realized that you were trying to help me keep my promise. To make my lie the truth. To do what we had decided to do after Ragnar." He tilted his head and regarded her through narrowed eyes.

_I've seen that look of conquered fury before . . ._ She felt the dampness in the air and was surrounded by the scent of dirt and trees. _Kobol._ She recalled his words. _'For convincing me that I should go. My son would be dead. Whatever else the cost . . . I won't second-guess that outcome. I forgive you, Laura.' _Her throat tightened. "Bill, I'm . . ."

He silenced her with a gesture. "It's not dying that changes you. It's living afterward," Adama rasped quietly.

His gaze drifted to the report on her lap; the report of Kara's conversation with the Sharon Cylon. A small sad smile played over his lips. Taking on a sympathetic look, his dark blue eyes returned to her gray ones. "Tell me what you remember, Laura."

_It's only fair; after all he answered me._ Memories flashed before her eyes. _Sun reflecting off water . . . Richard's face . . . Baltar kissing Shelly Godfrey . . . the Cylon Sharon staring . . . Baltar bending over her in Sickbay . . ._

"I remembered. . ." Her eyes went wide. "I relived my last day on Caprica. The day of the Cylon attack."

"Your visit to the _Galactica_?" He asked ruefully. "I was less than hospitable."

"No, before my visit. And yes you were." She laughed lightly. Then she looked away from him. He waited silent, patiently. _How much do I tell? _She sighed.

"That was the day I got the diagnosis – that I was . . . that the breast cancer was terminal." She breathed deeply, her shoulders moving up and down. "It was also the day I decided to do something on my own. I met with the head of the teacher's union and promised him that the President would listen if they went back to work. I didn't have Adar's permission to make that promise." She flicked a glance at Adama.

His look was knowing. "I've heard that before."

"There's more," she continued uncertainly, then stopped.

Adama frowned and looked at her, puzzled.

"I'm not sure that this part of my memory is real." She looked straight at him. "I think I saw Doctor Baltar kissing Shelly Godfrey in the Caprica City Garden."

His jaw clenched and he gave her a dark glare. "Damn. Are you sure?"

She shook her head. "There's no proof, Bill." She sniffed. ". . . and since he has already been accused and the evidence was found to be fabricated . . ."

"Any accusation would be perceived as a move to discredit him. So politically he's untouchable -- on that subject." Adama nodded sagely.

"Exactly," she said. "I've asked him to resign but he's refused. Future dealings with him will be very difficult." She smiled knowingly. "But, he _is _useful sometimes."

"Useful, yes." Adama nodded in agreement. "But Baltar is not to be trusted." He paused and looked at her small hand enveloped in his larger one. He lightly tightened his hold. His expression became uncertain.

"What is it, Bill?" She tilted her head trying to catch his eyes. "Something else about Doctor Baltar?"

"No." Adama shook his head. "Nothing about Doctor Baltar." He matched his gaze to hers. "About future dealings. Trust. We are on a very long journey, Laura. A journey we have to make together. You. Me. And all of humanity." He finished his drink and set it on the low table next to the couch. "My promise has become our promise." He took her glass and the report, and laid them on the table next to his glass. Then he took both her hands in his. "No more secrets. No more lies. That's what got us into trouble."

She smiled and shook her head. "Being a president means . . . "

". . . you don't have to explain yourself to anyone." Adama smiled back at her. "I'm not asking for explanations," Adama rasped. "I'm asking for trust and understanding." His smile widened impishly. "I'll still restrict tactical details . . ."

". . . to those who need to know. Well, then," Roslin stood, pulling him to his feet with her. She dropped his hands and took a step away from him. His smile faded and he looked mystified. Her smile morphed into a mischievous smirk. "I'll think about it, Admiral." She extended her right hand.

He smiled and shook it.

**  
**


	9. Chapter 9: Regret

**INTERPOLATIONS**

**CHAPTER SIX  
(takes place at the end of "Sacrifice")**

**Regret**

There is regret. Always, there is regret.  
But it is better that our lives unloose,  
As two tall ships, wind-mastered, wet with light,  
Break from an estuary with their courses set,  
And waving part, and waving drop from sight.  
-- Philip Larkin (1922–1986), British poet. "Love, we must part now."

XXXXXXX

His jumbled emotions after leaving Lee in Sickbay had driven him here. Feelings of anger, relief, chagrin, and shame warred for his attention and confused him. Once again he sought answers by looking at the face of his enemy. He studied the new bullet marks on the corpse and suffered none of the grief he experienced on his previous trip to the morgue. _Are you . . . were you friend or foe? Probably both and neither._

Adama felt the air stir as the hatch to _Galactica_'s morgue opened. He turned, saw Roslin enter, and looked back at the body. _She's still angry with me. _

Roslin stepped to his side, joining him in looking down at the icy cadaver of the Boomer Cylon. "Is this what you gave 'em?"

He didn't look at her. "It was a calculated risk," he grated._ We've already argued this out. _He clenched his jaw. _ I will not apologize again for saving my son's life._

Roslin studied his profile. "It wasn't worth it," she snapped, her voice breaking.

Adama felt her move away from his side. He sighed silently. _It was my only choice. _He looked up and watched her in the fringes of his vision as she sat down next to Billy. The boy lay under a sheet on the autopsy table, blue-cold pale but looking as if he was sleeping.

Roslin began to weep. "Oh dear." She reached out and tenderly straightened the hair on Billy's forehead. "Well, that's better. Much better." She wept in earnest, her shoulders shaking. "He was so young." She gasped and fled the room.

Adama wanted to run after her, to take her in his arms, and wipe away her tears. He stood unmoving. _I'm responsible for her grief. Why would she accept solace from me?_ He took a slow deep breath.

Adama pulled the sheet over Boomer's corpse and rolled it back into its storage locker, then walked over to Billy. He looked at the boy. Images rolled through his memory. _A bright Caprican sky . . . Caroline weeping . . ._ He rasped, "They're all too young."

He looked at the stool recently occupied by Roslin. "Jo-Jo, Reilly, Flattop, Chuckles, Jolly . . . Crashdown, Flyboy, Stepchild, Puppet . . . Socinus, Prosna, Fireball . . . Trees, Lifehawk . . . Rambler . . . . Karaya . . . . . Tower . . . . . . Zak." His voice slowed, deepened, and faded as he spoke.

Adama stood silently, imagining Roslin before him, seated on the stool. In his mind's eye, he moved closer until his shirt almost brushed her back. His hands came up, reaching out to rest on her shoulders. _I've cost another woman her son._ The thought shattered his vision.

He spoke again to the empty room. His voice was like silk being abraded by sand. "In war, Rule Number One is 'Young people die.' Rule Number Two is 'You can't do anything about Rule Number One.'"

Adama paused and folded his hands. He stared at them. "Corollary: 'You can only ask why, and try to be worthy of their sacrifice.'"

He dropped his hands to his sides. Adama backed away from Billy and moved to the hatch. "I am truly sorry, Laura," he susurrated. He pulled open the hatch and walked silently away.


	10. Chapter 10: Interregnum, Part One

**INTERPOLATIONS**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

(takes place during "Lay Down Your Burdens," Part Two)

**Interregnum**

**in·ter·reg·num** (ĭn'tər-rěg'nəm) n.

The interval of time between the end of a sovereign's reign and the accession of a successor.

A period of temporary suspension of the usual functions of government or control.

-- American Heritage Dictionary

**The Missing Year: Day 5 **

"Ah, Doctor Roslin, thanks so much for coming." President Baltar took Roslin's hand as she stepped into the briefing room aboard _Colonial One_. He angled toward the cameraman and smiled. He blinked after the flash before turning back to Roslin. "I have a number of things I would like to discuss with you." He led her out of the briefing room into the Presidential office.

Roslin froze in the hatchway, struck by the changes. Gone were the whiteboard and the picture from the day of the Attack; in their place was a large portrait of the new President. Also gone were the bright colors and desks for the Presidential aides, the cabin was now dark and held a large couch. Roslin shook herself and stepped over the threshold. "I can't say I like what you've done with the office." She smirked at Baltar's ill concealed look of confusion.

"Uhm, well, I can understand that." The new President cleared his throat and sat behind his desk. "We need to discuss your future."

"My future?" Roslin lifted her chin and stared at Baltar. "I can't see how my future is a concern of yours. I'm a private citizen of the Colonies."

"Uh, well yes, that is true." Baltar squirmed under her gaze and looked away. "But you are our only former President … and prophet." He let the word hang in the air. "You still have influence among the people and with the military." He met her eyes and held them.

_Influence with Admiral Adama you mean._ Roslin narrowed her eyes. "No more than any other citizen, Mr. President." She shifted slightly in her chair, suddenly uneasy.

"Some people might perceive it differently Doctor Roslin." Baltar smiled. "And some are still concerned about certain activities by the military during your tenure. They may even go as far as to suggest that a full public investigation is warranted."

Roslin sat back in her chair. She tried to keep the apprehension off her face.

Baltar's smile widened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and folding his hands. "I have so far," he said with false sincerity, "been able to dissuade them from making a public demand. However, I may not be able to continue to keep them silent if it appears that the collusion between your administration and Admiral Adama … "

_So that's your point._ "I thought you wanted to talk about my future," she snapped. "Leave the Admiral out of this."

Baltar flinched. "You can rest assured that I am convinced that the Admiral had nothing to do with any misconduct." He held up a hand. "However, as the ranking officer he is responsible for the actions of his subordinates, and therefore would be held accountable for their misdeeds. At least in the eyes of the people." Baltar looked at her steadily.

_He's threatening to remove Bill from command._ "What do you want?" she said slowly.

"You will retire to private life – as all other former Colonial Presidents have done before you. You will limit your contact with all government officials to personal matters and you will have no contact whatsoever with the military." He smiled brightly as if an idea had just struck him. "You will hold a press conference announcing your decision – emphasizing that you wish to be left alone, and that you will return to teaching." His smile grew wider and smug. "And I will issue an executive order, endorsed by the Quorum, confirming that Admiral Adama will remain in the post of Fleet Admiral."

She looked at the deck, cornered. _He'll blame Bill for my actions._ Roslin lifted her head and met Baltar's triumphant look. She held it until he faltered. _You're not as sure as you act. Still, I can't risk you removing Bill from command and replacing him with one of Zarek's men. _"Very well." She rose regally from her chair and leaned across the desk over Baltar. "I will retire from public life." She leaned closer; Baltar raised his face to hers. "And the Quorum will leave Admiral Adama in command of the Fleet," she breathed.

"Of course, of course." Baltar blathered. "Adama is a good man." He blanched as Roslin's look hardened. "Beloved by the people. A hero."

"I'll schedule the press conference as soon as possible." Roslin straightened and stepped away from the desk.

"Ah, my people have already scheduled it for you." Baltar's smile was back. "It's set for tomorrow. You may use the Presidential briefing room."

"Then if that's all, Mr. President?"

Baltar sat back in his chair. "Please don't let me keep you any longer. Setting up a school will take a lot of work, Doctor Roslin. And do let me know how my office – the President's office – may help you with the education of our children. Such very important work…"

"I'll be sure to do that, Mr. President." Roslin turned, and without a backward glance, strode out of the compartment.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**The Missing Year: Day 15**

Adama stood with his glasses clasped in his hands. He gave President Baltar a restrained glare and fought to keep a scowl off his face. "Mr. President, we cannot leave the planet undefended. When the Cylons find us unprepared …"

Gaius Baltar's head came up from where it rested on his hands. He blearily regarded the desktop. "Undefended?" He mumbled. "The Cylons are not coming back Admiral. We will settle New Caprica in safety and rebuild our society."

Adama cut off his snort of disgust, but not before he was heard.

Baltar jerked upright and stared at Adama. "You have your orders, Admiral. Our priority is settling the planet. All civilians and non-essential military personnel will move planet side as soon as possible." He made a stopping motion with his hand, forestalling Adama's automatic protest. "Those members of the military who wish to remain may do so. And those with a bonafide service obligation will also stay. All others will move to New Caprica." Baltar let his gaze drop back to his desk. He pawed through the clutter. "Where are my meds? It's time," he muttered.

Adama let the scorn show on his face. _President of the Colonies. You're no Laura Roslin._ He huffed and turned to leave.

"And Admiral, remember I am the President and I expect you to follow your orders."

Adama slowly turned to face Baltar. "I know my duty," he rasped. At Baltar's narrowed eyes he added after a pause, "Mr. President."

Baltar nodded. "Good. And part of that duty is to keep what occurs in this office confidential." He tried – and failed – to glare at Adama. "Is it not Admiral?"

"The workings of the Colonial Government are no secret, Mr. President." Adama replied smoothly. He cocked his head at Baltar and put on his glasses. "Could you be more specific?"

Baltar cleared his throat and looked at a point over Adama's left shoulder, avoiding the Admiral's gaze. He remained silent for nearly a minute, twitching.

Adama waited stoically. _Lunatic._

As if he heard Adama's thought, Baltar lurched and ran his hands through his hair. He met Adama's eyes. "I am referring to Ms. – uh – Doctor Roslin. She no longer has an official capacity in Colonial Government. You are not to discuss our meetings – anything that is not public knowledge – with her. She no longer has a need to know."

Adama went rigid with anger. "Not according to Article 176, Mr. President." He gazed intensely at Baltar who squirmed in his chair.

"Ah, freedom of speech and association, quite true, Admiral. I'm just suggesting that it may be better for Doctor Roslin to remain – as she has requested – completely apart from the new administration."

_She did say that._ Adama remembered Roslin's adamant statement at her last press conference.

"_I will no longer participate in government. As have all other Colonial Presidents before me, I will retire to private life." She had smiled a genuine smile. "I plan to return to teaching – which was my first love." She launched into her plans to start a school and to train teachers and asked for supplies, books and other items. Many in the Fleet – Adama included – had willingly responded. _

"Of course, I will abide by Doctor Roslin's wishes." Adama narrowed his eyes at Baltar. _Why do you care?_

"Good." Baltar cleared his throat. "I wouldn't want to think that the military…" He looked away from Adama, staring out of the ports of _Colonial One_. "… doesn't fully support the civilian government." He turned back to Adama and smiled. "Especially with the history of an attempted coup …"

Adama winced almost imperceptibly.

Baltar's eyes gleamed with triumph. "It has only been my concern for harmony and unity among the few of us remaining that has kept my administration from …"

"I understand perfectly Mr. President," Adama growled.

"Well then…" Baltar cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. "You can be on your way. I'm sure you have a lot to do." He made a shooing motion with his hand. "Uh dismissed uh Admiral."


	11. Chapter 11: Interregnum, Part Two

**The Missing Year: Day 28**

Adama paused as he stepped into what was once the cargo bay of _Colonial Heavy 798_. He recalled similar ships from his days as a freight monkey. Then it would have been a shadowed hushed cavern filled with the large pallets of goods that the ship transported between planets. Now it served as the living area of several hundred people and bustled with sound and light.

The crowds moved among barriers of scavenged material that divided the bay into individual compartments. Adama could feel the excitement – the life – that buzzed through the space. _They're looking forward to moving to that frakking planet._ He took a deep breath, wiping the scowl off his face. _They made a choice… as did we._

He searched the passageway for a clue to the location of Roslin's schoolroom. He spotted a group of happy children pouring out of an opening and his lips quirked into a small smile. _That must be the place._ _Some things never change._ He shifted the box of books he carried into both hands and moved forward into the crowd. He heard the whispers almost immediately and was careful to nod to the people who addressed him._ Hero worship. I've seen it before._ He kept a smile on his face and didn't flinch as passersby reached out to brush his sleeve. He looked directly into the eyes of people he recognized and nodded in greeting. _Baltar will know of this visit well before I leave._

He reached the opening he had marked and stepped into the schoolroom. _There she is._ Laura had her back to him, her auburn hair splayed across her shoulders, longer than he remembered. She was wearing a worn jacket, slacks, and boots. _No more suits, Laura? _His brain understood but his heart mourned the change. He had grown quite fond of seeing her in a skirt. Adama stared, holding his breath and drinking in her appearance._ She looks rested and happy._ He chuckled and took a step forward.

Roslin turned at the sound, her smile of welcome quickly changing to a look of concern that was just as quickly replaced by her politician's smile. "Bill. Hello. How may I help you?" Her grey eyes peered searchingly at his blue ones.

"I found some more books for you, Laura." He held up the box in his arms. "I discovered these in storage aboard the _Galactica_." He placed the box on a nearby table and opened the top. He held a book out to her.

"Colonial History." She turned the book over in her hands, clearly delighted. "Bill, this looks new." She looked up at him.

"It is." He smiled back. "There are three dozen copies here." He indicated the box. "I think they were meant for the gift shop."

Roslin clasped the book against her chest. She stepped away from him and walked around to the other side of the table to look into the box.

_Staying away from me?_ Adama let the regret show on his face. _Are you angry with me?_ He looked down at his hands, clasped in front of his belt. _I couldn't let you … I couldn't let us steal an election._ He sighed and looked up. Placid grey eyes stared back at him. He saw no anger, just compassion and fear. _Are you afraid of me? _He looked at Roslin more closely. _No. _His mind returned to his conversation with Baltar. _You're afraid for me._ _Baltar threatened the Fleet? Because of our relationship. _He saw a hurt look cross her face and realized he was glaring at her. He smiled. "Would you like to come aboard the _Galactica_ and look for more books?" _Then we could talk without being observed._ He stepped closer to the table – closer to her.

A look of apprehension flitted across her face.

_Confirmed. Oh Laura..._

She smiled her politician's smile. "I don't think so, Bill." She shook her head. "But I will send my assistant. Maya is much more suited to clambering through _Galactica_'s stores than I."

Adama nodded. "As you wish, Laura." He turned to go. At the door he paused and gazed back at her.

She looked relieved.

Roslin heard them approaching long before they entered her classroom. So she was standing facing the opening to the schoolroom when Baltar's aides entered. They swept the area with their eyes and once they confirmed there was no one else present, the larger two positioned themselves just inside the doorway. The third took a seat at the table that served as her desk. He frowned at the box Adama had left there. The man waved a hand to indicate that she should seat herself as well. She hesitated, considered remaining standing, but when the man pointed at her and the chair emphatically, she sat. "Admiral Adama was here," he said. "Why?"

She nodded at the box. "He found some books for the school. Colonial History – three dozen new copies."

The man nodded. "He wanted you aboard the _Galactica_." It was a statement not a question.

_So you are spying on me._ She kept the triumph off her face and instead feigned surprise. "Why yes, he offered to let me look among the supplies for more books and other items to use for the school." The man opened his mouth but closed it as Roslin went on quickly. "But I told the Admiral I was too busy and that Maya would be much better suited to crawling among dusty boxes."

They sat silently for a moment before the man nodded. "Good," he said. "Have her make the trip tomorrow. _Colonial One_ will be landing on New Caprica the day after that. A schoolroom has been prepared for you on the planet." He stood and left with the other two.

Roslin stared after them. _Two days. I won't even get to say 'good-bye.'_ She blinked back tears.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Roslin sat strapped in her seat as the _Colonial One_ broke orbit. She stared out the port as the small ship wheeled past the bulk of the _Galactica_. _Stay safe, Bill._ She put out a hand and pressed her palm against the window.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Adama lingered before the port on the _Galactica_'s observation deck. The _Colonial One_ coasted past the much larger battlestar and descended into the atmosphere of New Caprica. _Take care, Laura_. He gazed after the little ship long after it was no longer visible.


	12. Chapter 12: Interregnum, Part Three

**The Missing Year: Day 126 "The Groundbreaking"**

Laura seesawed around her tent, straightening the chairs and table, and the covering on her cot. _Our cot. _Her skin still tingled at the memory of Bill's warm hand trailing along her thigh. She patted the bed fondly. _You can't really call it a bed. Though it worked well enough for us. _Bill had left some time ago with an inebriated Ellen and a slightly less drunken Saul Tigh, to return to the _Galactica_. The Tighs had staggered up to her tent shortly before sunset, nearly tripping over her and Bill as they lounged behind it. _Ellen was certainly vocal about that. _Laura winced at the memory. _But Saul shut her up._ She smiled.

Bill had helped her to her feet and at some signal from the Admiral; Tigh had grasped Ellen by the shoulders and spun her into a searing kiss. Bill had taken the opportunity to wrap his arms around Laura in a warm embrace.

"Go inside, it looks like rain," Bill had whispered. "And tighten up the tent. I wouldn't want you to blow away," he had chuckled. "I'll see you the next time I'm planet side." He'd tenderly nuzzled her neck.

She had pulled him closer and said, "You'd better." She'd instantly regretted that blunder. _Gods, Baltar's sure to know about this. _She had clung to him, earning a whispered, "I'll be back."

She secured the bindings on her tent and sank to her knees to straighten the remnant of rag wool carpet. _Baltar's men will be here soon. _Peeking under her bed she spotted the empty ambrosia bottle and their used glasses. _How did those get …_ Laura stretched to grasp the items. When her tent flap jerked aside, she jumped up and quickly deposited them in the garbage bin. Baltar's aides entered. Her usual antagonist seated himself and regarded her silently. He pulled a cloth off a nearby table and wiped the dust from his shoes, until they were as immaculate as his dark suit. _Still perfect. Even after three months on this planet, _Laura thought. The other two prowled around her tent, scrutinizing everything. When they were finished, they nodded at their seated comrade and exited her tent.

"Admiral Adama spent the night. The President is not pleased." The man rose from his chair. "He is not to visit again. Or you will have him as a permanent houseguest." He smiled coldly. "See to it."

The man left without waiting for her answer.

_I can't take the chance._ Her head swirled with consequences. She stumbled over to the bed and fell onto it. _Our cot. Oh, Bill. I'm sorry._ She ran a hand aimlessly over the blanket. _I have to. _She wrapped her arms around herself.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

****

_The Missing Year: Day 216_

Summers were short on New Caprica. Hot sunny days and warm nights raced into cool bright periods marked with cooler evenings, which quickly faded into cold cloudy weeks punctuated by rain. The skies promised more of the same as Admiral Adama stepped out of _Colonial One_ and headed down the muddy street toward the tents of New Caprica City.

_Gaeta's not going to be able to hold it together by himself. _He pondered his meeting with his former lieutenant as he weaved to avoid the deepest ruts. _Baltar's not even trying anymore._ _Winter will be a disaster._ Adama turned up his collar as a light rain pattered around him. _I need to talk to Tyrol._

After urging his former deck chief to organize his people, Adama hurried to another part of the tent city. _I hope I catch her … this time. _He ducked quickly into the school tent and looked for Roslin, intending to apologize for showing up so late. Instead he found Maya placing the next day's lesson on the desks.

"Hello Admiral." Maya looked up at him. "Laura's not here."

He nodded back and raised an eyebrow.

Maya shifted from foot to foot and looked around the tent. "She …" Maya was interrupted by an unhappy burble from Isis who lay in a nearby bassinette. She hurried to comfort her daughter.

Adama followed, noting that Roslin's coat and canvas book bag were tucked under the desk. _She wouldn't leave those behind._ He turned to peer over Maya's shoulder. Isis fussed at her mother, but when she spotted Adama, she ceased and raised her arms to him, laughing, clasping and opening her hands.

"She likes you." Maya looked up at Adama.

"It's the mustache," he said gravely. _Zac acted the same way._ "May I?" At Maya's nod, he gathered Isis into his arms. The infant promptly grabbed at this face. He intercepted her hands with one of his, keeping her from latching onto his upper lip. Isis scowled at him until her brought their hands to his lips and rubbed her knuckles across his mustache. She giggled. _Zac liked that too._ "So where did Laura run off to this time?" He flicked a glance from Roslin's desk to Maya.

"She … she had some errands to run," Maya stammered. "She's not going to be back anytime soon."

"I understand." Adama nodded. _She doesn't want to see me._ He smiled sadly at Isis and handed the infant back to her mother. "Tell Doctor Roslin I'm sorry. I won't bother her again."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Adama's head came up as the Raptor bumped to a landing on the _Galactica_'s flight deck. Blue eyes met brown as Tigh looked back at him. Adama's gaze remained steady as he slowly raised an eyebrow. Tigh growled and began to extricate himself swiftly from the restraints. He stood, careful not to disturb his wife Ellen. Both men sighed as she murmured but did not wake. Tigh moved to the bow of the Raptor, but Adama paid no attention to his XO's conversation with their pilot. Instead he removed his own restraints, keeping a weary eye on Ellen. He frowned. _I've had quite enough of her tonight. _

After leaving the school tent, Adama had run into Kara Anders. She had insisted on dragging him to a bar where they joined her husband. Before long, Doc Cottle had appeared and proceeded to interrogate Adama. _Doc asked about everybody except Laura._ Ellen and Saul Tigh had soon appended themselves to the group. _That made my evening complete._ He ruthlessly repressed the thought that the glacier around his heart had anything to do with leaving Laura behind. _She's making a new life. _He sighed inaudibly and grimaced.

The evening on New Caprica had been gelid. It had rained during the short walk to the Raptor, and he'd gotten soaked and thoroughly chilled. Sitting through the Raptor flight had allowed his joints to stiffen; now something ached with every movement.

Adama ratcheted to his feet and crabbed to the Raptor's hatch. As Tigh stepped to his side, Adama glanced to the Raptor's cockpit. The pilot … _Gods when did they get so young?_ … sat there pale, sweating, and gripping his control stick. He turned to his XO. "What did you say to him?"

A smile flickered across his old friend's face. "I told him that after he fixes the Raptor's undercarriage, he can fix the dents in the deck."

"That requires EVA." Adama raised an eyebrow.

"He was a knuckledragger on the _Pegasus_ until a couple of months go. He can handle it. Besides…" A full grin broke out on Tigh's face. "I offered to go with him."

"You would." A hint of a smile flashed across Adama's face. "That would guarantee maximum anxiety." He shook his head. "Don't be too rough on him Saul."

"Just doing my job, Bill." Tigh nodded curtly.

"You're the XO. It's your call."

"Damn straight."

"You'd better see to Ellen." Adama moved out of the Raptor and pushed himself at a brisk pace across the hanger deck. His muscles protested after only a few dozen steps into the corridor. Adama paused, bowed his head and leaned a hand against the bulkhead while massaging the cramped abdominal muscle.

From somewhere, deep in the _Galactica_, a groan rang through the corridors. _Feeling your age a bit? _Adama squinted at the overhead._ I am. _He pushed himself off the bulkhead and limped down the corridor.

Throbbing in his chest and shoulders joined the pain in his gut as he opened the hatch to his quarters. Adama wove past book piles and other debris strewn on the deck. He stopped at his desk to turn off the lamp. When he reached his rack, he shed his uniform, hung it carefully in his clothes store, and donned a well-worn pair of sweats.

Glimpses of auburn hair, grey eyes unfocused and closing with pleasure, a girlish smile, the sound of her voice, her giggle rolled through his memory. He frowned and pulled himself onto his rack. The movement caused spasms in his chest and abdominal muscles. He drew up his knees, gulped a series of small breaths, and eased onto his back. _Forget the past and move on._

The light over his bunk buzzed and emitted a sickly brown light. He put out his hand and gripped the bulkhead at the edge of his rack's niche. The chill from the metal crept up his arm and ran into his bones. This cold didn't bother him. He caressed the pitted and scarred metal with his hand. _This is where I belong._ The light over his bunk brightened. He sighed.

_The Cylons have left us alone this long. They may actually be gone._ He drew his brows together and stared blearily at the overhead. _If that's true and the Cylons are gone … I can't ask anyone to stay and give up their chance at a life. _

He reached up and turned off the light, looking for comfort in sleep. He drifted off. Images of boats, hot bright skies, memories of friends and laughter flickered on his closed eyelids. Ships had always been his haven, the place where he was happiest even though the sailing hadn't always been smooth. The voyage on Libra, for instance, where he'd been caught in a sudden microburst. _If it weren't for that lighthouse, I would've been smashed to bits on the rocks and drowned._ He yawned_. Maybe that's what the Fleet has become - a lighthouse. Not warning ships of danger. More warning the rocks that ships are coming._ He shifted uncomfortably.

_The Cavil Models said they would leave us alone. Maybe they will. Or maybe they'll just wait another 40 years_. The _Galactica_ echoed his groan. _Neither of us will be around for that, will we girl? _He stroked the bulkhead.

"_We're going to rot while everyone else gets to start a new life?"_ He flinched as he recalled Ellen Tigh's words. _A lighthouse only needs one keeper._

He dreamed of sails and storms, and the lighthouse keeper in Maris Cove.


	13. Chapter 13: Interregnum, Part Four

****

_The Missing Year: Day 227_

Sharon suppressed the urge to come to attention when Adama strolled through the open door of her cell. Instead she slowly rose to her feet.

His blue eyes fastened on her and held steady. "Major Agathon said you had something to tell me."

She walked around the low table; gestured at it, the two chairs, and the drapery that adorned her cell. "I wanted to thank you for these. Both Helo and I appreciate what you've done." _Even though I don't understand why. _She looked away from his scrutiny. _You don't trust me. _She raised her eyes to meet his. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He held her gaze.

Unlike the other times she'd asked to meet with him, this time there was no hint of impatience in is demeanor. His utter calm unnerved her. "You once asked me if I would tell you the identities of the Cylons in the Fleet," she stammered. _And I refused because I was angry. Angry at myself because I'd betrayed my people for Helo. Angry with you because I felt I belonged her and you didn't trust me. _

"Yes," he growled. She saw that he remembered her refusal as well, as his jaw tensed and he glared at her.

"Well," She took a deep breath. "If you were to ask me now the answer would be different." _I'm not angry anymore. I want you to trust me. I've forgiven myself. I want to belong here._

"Thank you." His glare faded. They stood in silence for a moment. Sharon squashed the need to shift from foot to foot while Adama regarded her steadily. He turned and walked away.

"Aren't you going to ask?" she called after him.

He stopped and looked back at her, one hand on the door of her cell. "No."

"Why?" She took a step closer to him.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

Adama turned and left.

****

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

****

_The Missing Year: Day 242 _

"Those'll kill you. Take it from someone who knows."

Adama looked up as Doc Cottle ambled into his quarters and sank down on the chair across from him. The doctor's face was brown and wind burned, and Cottle's hair was longer than Adama remembered. _He looks tired, but relaxed. _The realization brought Adama's senses to Condition One. He had seen Cottle bushed many times, but only tired and at ease when his CMO was planning something. _What are you up to, Doc?_

The former CMO picked up the pack of cigarettes laying on the table, frowned and reached into his pocket. "Here. These are slightly less lethal." He tossed a different pack to Adama.

Adama discarded the smoke in his hand, examined the pack for a moment, and selected a cigarette. He turned the white cylinder over in his fingers. It crackled faintly. Adama decisively broke off the filter and snatched up his lighter from the table. He lit it and took a deep drag.

"Well that makes them about even." Cottle observed dryly.

Adama's gaze flicked to the doctor. Cottle sighed and took a cigarette. Adama offered the doctor a light. The two men smoked in silence.

"Why are you here, Doc?" Adama snubbed out his cigarette and studied the doctor through the blue haze surrounding them.

"I'm still the senior flight surgeon." Cottle grunted. "Ishay consults me about problems with the crew." He leaned back and pulled another cigarette from the pack. "And she likes to remind me that I gave up a warm dry Sickbay on a broken down battlestar for a cold wet tent on a frakking mudball planet." Cottle picked up Adama's lighter and fired the end of his smoke. He took a deep drag and blew a cloud of smoke toward the overhead.

Adama waited. He stared at Cottle. _Com'on Doc. I know you're here for something other than a smoke …._

"Besides," Cottle smirked at Adama, "it's past time for someone's annual physical."

_Damn._ Adama blinked. "Doc …" He shook his head.

"No getting out of it, Admiral," Cottle interrupted. "I'm not leaving until your exam is complete." He smiled.

"Okay Doc. I won't keep you from your work on New Caprica." Adama laughed at the look on Cottle's face and stood. "Let's get to it."

****

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Seems like you'll do for another year, Admiral." Cottle put his stethoscope back into his black bag.

"Thanks Doc." Adama sighed and put on his tunic. He didn't button it.

"By the way, she's fine." Cottle caught Adama's eyes.

"I know." Adama nodded at Cottle. "I spoke with Kara a few days ago. She wanted me to come to Helo's bachelor party." He smiled but it didn't touch his eyes. "I took a rain check. After all I'm officiating at the ceremony …"

"No." Cottle shook his head. "What I meant is - Roslin is healthy. She's busy with the school and the children."

"Oh. That's good." _Not a subject I'm going to discuss, Doc._

Cottle looked at Adama, his head tilted to one side. The doctor slowly raised an eyebrow and frowned, but Adama looked back at him intently. _It doesn't matter Doc. _He blew out a soft snort._ I'm up here and she's down there. We made our choices. Forget the past and move on._

The comm unit buzzed. Adama turned and picked up the handset. "Adama." He looked at Cottle. "He's here." He handed the phone to Cottle.

"Yeah, we're done. Okay. Okay." Cottle hung up the comm. "The Raptor pilot is frakking anxious to leave," he snarled. "I guess I should go."

"See you next year Doc." Adama held out a hand. Cottle took it in a firm grip.

"Until next year, sir." Cottle picked up his bag and headed for the hatch. Halfway there he stopped and turned to face Adama. He drew himself to attention. "Sir, request permission to return to New Caprica." He raised his arm in a salute.

"Permission granted, Major." Adama slowly drew a hand to his forehead and flicked it at Cottle. "You're dismissed."

****

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

****

_The Missing Year: Day 257_

Cottle waded through the rushing children as he headed toward the school tent and his meeting with Roslin. _Doctor Roslin_, he corrected himself and dug into his pocket for a cigarette. Leaving it unlit, he stuck it in his mouth, pushed aside the flap, and stepped into the tent.

Roslin worked at her makeshift chalkboard slowly rubbing away the day's lesson on Colonial history. She wore a too large baggy grey sweater, dark pants, and heavy boots. Her auburn hair, grown long in the past months, fanned across her shoulders, swinging fractionally with the movement of her arm.

Cottle walked between the rows of desks and stood to one side as Maya and Isis passed. He nodded to the young mother and winked at her baby. Isis responded with a wail.

"Well, she's certainly thriving in this place," Cottle growled. He watched Maya as she hurried away, cradling the child to her chest and soothing her to silence. Turning back he met Roslin's amused gaze with a raised eyebrow. He frowned when her look developed into a glare.

"Doctor Cottle." She pointed at his cigarette. "Don't."

Cottle laughed and took the butt from his lips. He rolled it between his fingers and waved it at Roslin before he stuck it in his pocket. "Now what's so damned important? I have to finish rounds before dark."

"Sarah's parents mentioned that the messenger Raptor has been grounded for the past two days." Roslin crossed her arms.

"It's grounded permanently." Cottle snorted. "There's no one to fix it. The scheduled shuttles going up to the _Galactica_ have stopped as well."

"Why?" Roslin took off her glasses and frowned at Cottle.

"There's no reason for people going up and down anymore." Cottle grunted. "Adama let every one leave who asked."

"Baltar wouldn't let him keep …"

"Baltar barely knows where his pants are." Cottle interrupted. "He spends his days in bed or on his couch, smoking that herb you found and taking meds he confiscates from my supplies. Gaeta is the only one holding things together."

Roslin paced across the tent.

"Gaeta could use some help. Your help," Cottle said pointedly.

Roslin whirled and glared at Cottle. "No." She shook her head and drifted to the open flap. She flicked a fleeting look out into the muddy street and pulled it closed. "No."

"Why not?" Cottle asked. "Baltar's bullyboys are busy breaking legs for the merchants. They haven't been watching you for weeks."_ I've been watching them watch you. And I talked to Bill after I saw you avoiding him._

"Weeks?" She blinked and sat down heavily.

"Weeks," he repeated. Cottle lifted a chair from one of the student desks and sat it next to Roslin. He straddled it. "There's no one to hold you back now." Cottle smirked at her. "You should visit the _Galactica_." He waved at her partially erased chalkboard. "You're teaching Colonial history. There's several million tons of it in orbit above us. Let your students see it."

"A field trip, Doctor?" she smiled at Cottle.

"A field trip, Doctor."


	14. Chapter 14: Interregnum, Part Five

****

_The Missing Year: Day 305_

It was the hardest thing he had ever done. Harder than leaving his boys with Carolanne. Harder than burying his youngest. Harder than running away from the Cylons at Ragnar.

Adama stared at the book in his hands. He read the page again, without it registering. Roslin had found him as he worked on a Raptor in a secluded corner of the flight deck. Her caress on his thigh had brought him bolting from beneath the machine. He had engulfed her in a bear hug and smeared her with the thick grease from the Raptor's undercarriage. He had quickly apologized and escorted the oily Roslin to his quarters, after offering her the use of his shower. He had been puzzled by her gleeful acceptance until she had ensconced herself in his head, to test the limits of the _Galactica_'s ability to provide hot water, and the limits of his patience, restraint, and self-control.

Unbidden, Bill thought of Laura's cleaned clothing lying on his rack, neatly folded. _Exactly where I put it._ _She'll have to come out to …_ The image of Laura naked, laughing and wrapped in one of his inadequately small towels floated before him. He blotted the image from his mind. _Remember – self-discipline. _He remembered his robe hanging on the bulkhead near the shower. _She'll wear that._

He heard the slight creak that signaled the hatch to his head opening.

"Bill? Are you out there?"

"I'm here Laura. Your clothes are on my rack." He remained where he was, imagining her moving to his rack and back into the head. He waited, staring at his book until he heard her emerge again. He closed the book with a snap and stood, turning to greet her.

****

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Roslin took a deep breath and walked out of the head in Adama's quarters. She waited until he noticed her, closed his book and rose to his feet.

"I don't want you to apologize any more," she said. "I'm the one who owes you an apology."

He cocked his head slightly.

"Baltar was watching me. Listening to everything I said." She quickly continued. "He threatened to remove you from command – if I didn't cooperate and sever my relationship with you. I couldn't take the chance …"

"I know." He nodded.

She blinked at him. "You know? You guessed."

"I don't guess." A corner of his mouth moved up. "I gather intelligence. I formulate a theory and test it." He stepped closer to her. "I know."

"And you stayed away?" She winced at the unintended shrillness of her words and looked down.

"Laura."

She snapped her head up at the exasperated edge in his voice. Her eyes met his.

"Think about it," he said calmly.

She held his eyes. "Bill." She conjured an almost forgotten tone and expression from her presidency -- one that she used to convey her impatience.

"I've thought about it. A lot." Adama sighed and drew his mouth into a grim line. "It wouldn't work. There's nothing for me down there." His look softened, quelling her objection. "Well, maybe I should say there's nothing for me to _do_ planet side." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I belong on the _Galactica_. Even if that means endlessly punching holes in space. At least I'll be doing my duty. I could no more live on that planet then you could live up here."

She moved away.

"In either case," he continued, "one of us would end up frustrated, disappointed, unhappy …"

It was her turn to sigh. She turned back to face him, nodded, and took off her glasses.

" … and eventually blaming the other for it," he concluded.

_Frak._ "Admiral, when did you become so practical?" She stepped back to him.

"I guess you're rubbing off on me, Doctor Roslin." His arms enveloped her in a sad embrace. "Come visit an old man now and then, Laura."

"If you'll visit the schoolmarm when you can." She entwined her arms around him. _We can do that at least._ She felt his chuckle and tilted her face up to his.

"I will, if you promise not to run away from me."

"No reason to run any more, Bill." She smiled.

He hugged her tightly.

****

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

****

_The Missing Year: Day 365_

Roslin shooed the children back inside the school tent, and firmly closed the canvas. She lingered with her back to the flap, watching the centurions march down the only street in town. She turned her face up to the New Caprican sky. Cylon raiders screamed out of the clouds and flared over the settlement.

_If the Cylons are here … the Fleet is gone._

She crossed her arms hugging herself trying to stifle a shiver that had nothing to do with the damp cold. _Bill._

"He got away," a deep voice said next to her.

"What are you talking about?" She turned to Doc Cottle.

He continued to watch the sky. "The Fleet. They jumped away - clean." Cottle flicked her a sidelong glance. "He'll be back."

Roslin squinted at the Doctor. "How can you know that?" She gestured at the scene playing out before them. "Look at the Cylons – there are hundreds of them. We had less than seventy ships and most of them were unarmed. How do you know that the Cylons didn't blow them out of the sky?"

Doc chuckled and scanned the clouds. "Ever seen a space battle from the ground?"

"No." Roslin shook her head. "Have you?"

"Yes." Cottle grunted. "Hell of a light show. When there's a battle in orbit, debris falls into the planet's atmosphere." Cottle continued. "It burns and you can see it. The bigger the piece the brighter the fireball." He waved a hand at the sky. "If the Cylons jumped in and blew the Fleet to shreds, we'd be seeing pieces falling for hours."

Her eyes swept across the clouds. There was no sign of debris. _He left. He saved whom he could and he left. _Her eyes drifted to the muddy ground at her feet.

"He'll be back."

"How can you be so sure?" Roslin asked. _We left so many behind when we jumped to Ragnar. If he does the smart thing, he'll run and never look back._ Her eyes stayed fixed on the ground.

"This is Bill Adama we're talking about." Doc snorted. "He'll be back."

She lifted her eyes to the marching Cylon centurions, Cottle, and the grey New Caprican sky. _Lords of Kobol, keep Bill safe -- wherever his path may be. _


	15. Chapter 15: Rapprochement

**INTERPOLATIONS**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**Rapprochement**

(takes place after "Exodus, Part 2")

For many years I bore

Thy absence, till old age and fresh infirmities

Exacted thy return, and our reunion.

William Wordsworth "The Borderers" 1795-96

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Admiral Adama paused just outside the hatch to his quarters. The corridor -- all the corridors of the _Galactica_ -- reverberated with the activities of returned crew and rescued civilians. _This is the way it should be._ A smile slowly crept onto his face. _This is right._ He schooled his features into an austere mask. _Just one thing left to do. _He marched down the corridor, briskly saluting the passing crewmen.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Laura Roslin rose from among the boxes crowding her makeshift office on _Colonial One_. "Admiral Adama." She smiled. Her crowd of helpers climbed to their feet and burst into applause.

Laura silenced them with a gesture. _He's shaved._ She cocked her head and tapped a finger on her lips. Bill looked more smug than Laura had ever seen him, very nearly insufferably cocky.

"All right people," Laura said firmly. "The Admiral and I need to talk. Would you give us a moment please?"

They filed out of the small compartment – most pausing to murmur to the Admiral as they passed. He nodded to each who spoke.

Had anyone asked later, she would not have been able to tell who moved first. Laura heard the muffled clank of feet on the deck and the whispering swish of the curtain, and suddenly found herself surrounded by his warmth, the crisp fabric of his uniform scratching her cheek, as she nestled her face at the point where his neck met his shoulder. She inhaled deeply the faint musky spice that was 'Bill Adama.' _We made it. I'm on my ship._ She sighed peacefully. _The Fleet is here. You're here._

His hands, resting on the small of her back, pulled her closer and his warm breath caressed her ear as he sighed.

_This is right. This is the way it should be._ At a frisson that tingled up her hamstrings and Bill's minute tremor, Laura wondered if his thoughts mirrored hers. Placing both her hands on his chest, she raised her head to look into his eyes. Bill's ghost of a smile told her all she needed to know._ You do feel the same._

"Welcome home, Madame President."

"It's good to see you again, Admiral." She tapped her index finger on his lapel. "I'm not the President."

"You will be." His smug expression returned.

Something else shimmered in his look, but it flickered away too quickly for her to catch. _What?_ She tilted her head and studied him.

"I've told Zarek I won't work with him."

"Bill …" She shook her head. "He's the President."

"He's a terrorist and belongs in a cell." His countenance grew hard. "I don't trust him." She heard his unspoken _'I trust you'_ clearly.

"What if he refuses to resign?"

"He won't." Bill raised his chin and gazed steadily down at her. "Zarek knows he has no chance of governing this Fleet without support from the military."

"Especially now." Laura smiled. "After that stunt you pulled over New Caprica."

"Stunt?" Bill managed to make the single word covey both pleasure and insult.

"Jumping the _Galactica_ into the atmosphere." She slid closer to him. "Saul went on about how crazy that was …."

At the mention of his closest friend Bill's features fell.

"What's wrong?"

"Saul's eye …" He leaned his head back to gaze at the overhead. He swallowed. "Ellen." Bill turned back to her and fell silent.

"He'll be okay Bill," she said. "You know that."

He raised an eyebrow, eloquently communicating in that one gesture both his disbelief and hope for the truth of her statement.

"We beat the odds and escaped again." She laid her head back upon his shoulder. "Thanks to you." She snuggled closer. "We'll find Earth too. Eventually."


	16. Chapter 16: Acquiescence

**INTERPOLATIONS**

**CHAPTER NINE**

**Acquiescence**

(takes place at the end of "A Measure of Salvation")

And the manner in which we live, and that in which we ought to live, are things so wide asunder, that he who quits the one to betake himself to the other is more likely to destroy than to save himself; since any one who would act up to a perfect standard of goodness in everything, must be ruined among so many who are not good.

--- from The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli (1469 – 1527)

_They're coming for me._

Captain Karl "Helo" Agathon strode through the corridor of the _Galactica_ escorted by two fully armed Marines.

Helo carried himself at his full height, his movements crisp. He put every bit of his pride in his Fleet, his uniform, his ship into his posture and moved in sync with the Marines. His face was blank but his mind was in turmoil. _I will not lie. I will not evade. I will admit what I did. I'll accept my punishment – even if it means marching out an airlock._

The Marines had appeared at the hatch to his quarters shortly after Sharon's return. The couple had been quietly discussing the future – actually Helo had been quietly discussing; Sharon had been agitated, pacing their compartment and waving her arms.

_Angry and frightened._ He suppressed the urge to sigh. Sharon had astutely pointed out to him that although she acknowledged his actions as right, what he had done had repercussions far beyond the personal. _For Humanity, for the Fleet, for her_. He imagined her life without him. _Not only a Cylon but also the wife of a traitor. A pair of traitors._ The impact of phantom taunts caused his step to falter, and the Marine to his left raised a curious eyebrow.

"I'm fine Corporal." Helo told him. They rounded a corner and marched up the steps to Admiral Adama's hatch.

"Captain Agathon, as ordered," the corporal said to Adama's guards.

Corporal Wright nodded and slipped through the hatch with Helo following.

"Thank-you, Wright." Admiral Adama, seated at his desk, said to Wright, who silently saluted and exited to resume his post.

Helo drew himself to attention. "Captain Agathon reporting as ordered, sir." _He doesn't seem angry._

Adama glanced up at Helo, looked down, and shuffled the papers on his desk. "The Cylon prisoners died of asphyxiation before the resurrection ship was in range. Someone manually reversed the air purification system. We missed our opportunity to strike back against the Cylons."

"Yes, sir." _But genocide is wrong._

"Fortunately, we didn't lose anyone in a futile encounter with the Cylons." Adama continued sorting the files on his desk. "That would have only added to the tragedy."

_Futile?_ _Tragedy? _Helo's mind raced. _The Admiral knows. Why doesn't he arrest me?_

"We had an opportunity to slow down, maybe even stop the Cylons …," the Admiral growled.

_By sinking to their level._ Helo fixed his stare on the bulkhead behind Adama.

" … from pursuing us." Adama looked up at Helo. "Now we've lost the chance. Probably forever. Which means …"

_Here it comes._ Helo braced himself, standing straighter and more rigid.

"… that from now on, every pilot who is killed fighting the Cylons, every civilian who succumbs to despair, every human being who dies because we're running -– dies because of our failure in our duty to protect them. Do you see that, XO?" Adama spoke softly and Helo strained to hear him.

_Everyone who dies._ Helo staggered as he accepted the truth of Adama's words. _My fault. Everyone. From now on. My fault._

Helo was compelled to meet Adama's glare. Sympathy and pain gazed back at him. _You know. And accept the responsibility._ Helo took an involuntary step backward, breaking the lock between their eyes. _I've failed in my duty as a Colonial Officer. I've failed my ship. I've failed you._ Helo looked back to Adama. "Sir, I …."

"The cost of wearing the uniform is high." Adama raised an eyebrow and his lips formed a small sad smile. "Sooner or later, we can't hide from the things we've done anymore." He looked down at his desk. "There will be no investigation. I'm closing the book on this."

He lifted his eyes to Helo's. "You're dismissed." 


End file.
